Moments
by TheKitcheneer
Summary: A series of missing moments between Captain Chandler and Rachel Scott throughout the show. Each chapter covers one episode and has 3-4 scenes, starting from the pilot. Canon compliant.
1. Phase Six

This is a series of short scenes developing the Tom/Rachel relationship through each episode. Each chapter will cover an episode, with probably 2-4 scenes per episode, depending on what happens. Some are just one person's thoughts, some will be "missing" scenes, and some are the scenes that we know and love from one or the other's perspective. Will try to keep it canon-compliant throughout.

This is my first fanfic, so appreciate any comments or constructive advice.

* * *

It had been two months since they had come to the Arctic, and Rachel still wasn't sleeping well. At first, she told herself that it was the motion of the ship and the sounds of the engine. It never truly stopped, that gentle rocking of the sea and soft humming of the engines. She didn't notice it during the days, chaotic as they were. But as soon as she returned to her room and took off her boots, the motion was there.

At first, it grated on her. She felt the vibration in her body, under her feet, under her hands, everywhere. But eventually, Rachel realized that she had come to find it comforting. So why was she still tossing and turning every night, if it wasn't the movement of the ship?

Rachel tried then to tell herself that it was the cold. Yes, the Arctic was cold. Her lips were chapped, her skin was dry, and the wind whirled past her, whipping up snow and ice, every second that she worked. But Rachel knew, deep down, that she didn't mind the cold. So she pushed all of her non-virologist thoughts down during the day, didn't think about it. Work was easy. Work was comforting. Work she could handle. But when she got back to the cabin at night, changed and showered, and slipped into the tiny bunk, that's when everything got difficult.

A few nights after realizing that the movement of the ship no longer bothered her and that she actually _liked_ the cold, Rachel had to admit that she had been lying to herself. It wasn't the ship, or the sea, or the temperature, or even that terrible coffee that was keeping her awake. No, she knew what it was, but it was emotional and messy and exactly the kind of thing that Rachel hated.

Stress. Emotions. Fear. The weight of the world was on her shoulders. She was humanity's last chance. Nine months ago, she would have laughed at anyone who voiced such clear hyperbole. But not anymore. That was the situation. They were up here while the world burned, and not only was the world on her (and Quincy's) shoulders, but no one else knew. She saw the crew walking around every day, and they had no idea.

Sometimes she wondered, in the shower or lying in her bunk, whether she was doing the right thing. Last week, she overheard one of the crew talking about the wedding that his fiancée was planning back home. Was she a bad person for letting him think that, when his fiancée was probably dead?

Two days ago, she had talked to the CDC, and they told her that the virus was close to phase six. Two hours later, she had bumped into Captain Chandler and his XO arguing some sport, baseball or basketball or something, debating whose team would be in the lead when they returned home. Chandler had made a comment about taking his son to one of the games, that his boy loved the Yankees. Who was she to let him think that he had a family waiting back at home, that everything was fine, and that they would be home in a week watching strange American sports with their kids?

If she was really honest to herself, which wasn't too often, lying to the Captain bothered her the most. The man had welcomed her and Quincy, given up the helo bay, and given her his men to watch over them on the ice. He clearly thought that their scientific expedition was absurd and a waste of resources (and who could blame him when they made it sound boring on purpose?), but he was still nothing but polite, nothing but welcoming. Yes, lying to him bothered her the most.

So that was how Rachel found herself at 0350, tossing and turning, sheets wrapped around her legs, sleep nowhere in her future. With the sigh of a teenager, she threw off the covers, kicking her feet to remove the sheet. Noting the purring of the ship under her bare feet, Rachel slipped on a sports bra and tennis shoes and started down to the gym. If she wasn't going to sleep, she might as well get a workout. She'd need to be in top shape when they went back home.

Trying not to get lost in the winding gray p-way, and certainly not expecting anyone else to be up at this hour, Rachel almost ran headlong into someone as she turned a corner. In fact, she would have barreled right into him, if strong hands hadn't come out and grabbed her shoulders, steadying her.

"Woah there." Rachel looked up from the navy BDUs to the voice, seeing Captain Chandler. Great.

"Sorry," she muttered.

He smiled and let go of her shoulders. Why was he nice to her? Didn't he know that she was a liar?

"Well, be careful. And smile, doctor. Bridge says that it's going to be a beautiful clear day tomorrow."

Rachel forced a smile. "'Night, Captain."

They slipped past each other in the p-way, and Rachel took a deep breath. Jesus, she needed to get a grip. As she slipped into the empty gym, she promised herself that she would stop feeling guilty and get on with the mission. And even as she whispered the words to herself, Rachel knew that it was a lie.

* * *

Tom Chandler had his shit together. He always had. He prided himself on being an officer and a gentleman, levelheaded in a crisis, honest and loyal to a fault. Tom couldn't remember the last time that he felt as if he _truly_ had no fucking idea what to do. But sitting in his cabin, well, that was how he felt now.

He only had a few minutes. He was supposed to be changing to head to the Italian cruise ship. But it would take at least another thirty minutes to get close enough to launch the RIBs, so he sat down at his desk for a moment. In hours, his life had gone from routine to anything but. The Russian attack, Doctor Scott's revelations, the vidcom with the President, telling the crew that their families were probably dead, the nuclear attack, and now a fuel crisis! If he was honest, there was no way to know if they would ever make it home.

His hand reached out of its own volition to pick up the picture of his family on his desk in front of him, and a sad smile spread across his face. Were they even alive? Would he ever kiss Ashley's head again or ruffle Sam's hair? Would he ever be able to hold his wife again?

He remembered the day before he left, standing there with Darien, hands locked. Darien had made him promise that he would take that desk job when he came back. She had looked into his eyes, so serious, and told him " _I just worry so much when you're out there. Can you really promise that this is it? That after this, it's a desk job?_ " He had kissed her forehead and smiled and told her yes, of course, this was it, not to worry.

And now, this. His head swirled with memories, with regret, with fear for his family. Tom slammed down the picture and closed his eyes. He could see his family behind his eyelids, as he had left them on the dock, waving.

"Fucking stop, Tom," he told himself out loud. "This isn't the time or the place."

Tom stood up. The longer that he sat at that desk, the longer he looked at the picture, the harder it would get. He knew that, but it was still fucking hard to stand up and turn around.

Tom finished tying his boot and left the cabin. He didn't look back at the picture at his desk, he couldn't. The p-way was bustling, and he made his way quickly to the staging area. When he got there, the first thing that he saw was Doctor Rachel Scott. She was getting her materials together, dressed in containment gear, mask off.

At the sight of her, he felt anger coiling in his stomach. She had known, she had lied. If she had told him, they could have gone home, could have saved people. But Tom pushed the emotions away. They weren't helpful, and they weren't even right. The husband and father in him hated her, but the Captain in him knew that she was the only chance for their mission. And the pragmatist in him knew that she was their only chance at getting a vaccine and ending this entire thing.

He walked up to her, and they gave each other cautious nods. It was cold and rainy, and he had to speak loudly to even be heard.

"What are we looking at out there? If the ship was infected?"

"It's a messy death, this virus. Even just one. An entire cruise ship? It…it will be bad. Difficult to see."

Tom bristled. "My men can handle it, Doctor. They're well trained."

Rachel Scott just smiled at him. "Your men are very strong, Captain. But death by this virus, well, it's worse than any battle."

Tom started to cut her off. Who was she to know about battle? But she kept going, "I spent a year at a trauma ward in Mogadishu. I know what war is. And Captain, this is worse."

He looked at her. A year in Mogadishu? That was unexpected. Between the accent and the attitude, he had taken her as soft academic with no practical experience. Maybe he had misread her.

Tom changed the topic. "Well, I'm going to split most of the men into food and fuel, but I'll go with you. Let me know what you need."

"I will. Thank you," Rachel said, turning back to her CDC box. Tom took a step back, looking around at everything. They were ready to go. But Tom held back for a second before he gave the order, turning his gaze back to Doctor Scott in front of him. Maybe he had misread her. The world might be in her hands, but maybe they were in better shape than he had thought just five minutes before.

* * *

Rachel sat on the port side of the ship, the setting sun warming her thick sweater. She listened to the Captain speak to the crew, and she had to admit that it was a damn good speech. For years, the rah-rah patriotism of Americans had amused her, but now, she could see why they felt like that. And if she was honest, she did believe in this crew. She just didn't believe in herself.

A few minutes later, when the heavy orange sun just touched the horizon, she sensed someone else coming up. Rachel was surprised to find that it was the Captain, and even more surprised when he sat next to her. He rested his elbows on his knees and looked over at her. They were silent for a moment.

"I liked your speech," Rachel said, giving him the best smile she could muster.

The Captain looked up at her, surprise at the compliment clear on his face. "I have my moments."

They fell quiet again. Rachel looked out at the sea, but when she glanced at the Captain, he was looking at her.

"Do you know how hard Cuba was hit? Any idea what we're going to find?" Tom asked her.

"I'm honestly not sure," she answered. "The tropics were hit the hardest. Venezuela and Brazil had some of the highest death rates. But an island like Cuba, it's hard to say. Too many variables."

Tom nodded and looked down at his boots, but Rachel didn't look away from him. "Why the sudden decision to do this on the ship? What happened to the labs in North Carolina and Florida?"

The Captain looked back up at her. His blue eyes looked conflicted, and she saw almost imperceptible movement of the muscles around his mouth. Even Rachel, admittedly not the best at interpersonal affairs, could tell that he was conflicted. She wondered if he showed the same face to his crew, but she doubted it. For some reason, he was being more honest with her.

"Not safe enough. If we're really the only chance at a vaccine, the only ones with this primordial, then we can't send it to a lab 200 miles inland. Takes the control from our hands. Like you said, too many variables."

Rachel nodded. She could tell that he wasn't done. After a few heartbeats, the Captain kept speaking.

"I got through to my family. They're safe. My wife, my kids, they're with my dad. But it sounded bad out there. We need to get this vaccine together here, where we can control our environment, and then get it to them."

Rachel smiled at him, but part of her wasn't sure how to feel about that revelation. She knew that he was married, he had the ring, but she hadn't even known that he had kids. It hit her then how little she actually knew about the man sitting in front of her.

"I'm glad that you found your family," Rachel responded.

"Me too."

"Is the rest of the ship ok with this? With going to Guantanamo?"

She saw him hesitate for a second. Was he trying to decide whether to tell her the truth? Was there more to her question than she had thought? She knew that Guantanamo Bay was a location with baggage to most Americans, but there seemed to be even more behind his reaction.

"They will be. They'll understand why we had to do this when we get home."

Rachel nodded. She looked down, fingers fooling with a loose thread in her sweater. She wasn't sure how to answer that. She knew nothing about command or leading people.

Rachel sensed the Captain standing up, and she looked up at him. Sometimes she forgot how big, how imposing he was.

"We can do this, Doctor. I will move heaven and Earth to keep you and Doctor Tophet safe and get you what you need. We're going to go home with that vaccine." The Captain reached down and squeezed her shoulder, just a brief touch, conveying his message.

"Thank you, Captain." Rachel gave him a slow smile, and he nodded at her as he turned and left. She knew that he was a good commander, a good captain, and a good leader. She was none of those things, but she was a damn good virologist. Maybe, just maybe, they could pull this off together.


	2. Welcome to Gitmo

This one is pretty slow because there just really weren't many chances to show Tom and Rachel interacting in "Welcome to Gitmo." So a lot of this is just their thoughts during the interactions already in the show. But I promise you guys, more missing scenes are coming. I've already got the next few chapters ready so they should be coming soon. Will try to have another one later today and a few more throughout the week.

* * *

Tom knew that it would be easy to justify taking off the time on the way to Gitmo and relaxing. The crew was scared and stressed, and rumors were running rampant through the enlisted men. Even some of the officers were on edge. Yes, it would be easy, and the crew would appreciate it.

But he didn't become captain by doing what was easy. As soon as he left Doctor Scott to bask in a beautiful the sunset at the port edge of the ship, he started giving his orders. Green and Burke were to train groups of men for ground combat. They weren't just the navy anymore, but the navy and the army and the marines.

He ordered groups of three to start listening to every message that came in. They needed to know exactly what they were up against. He ordered the bridge to pull out everything that they had on Cuba and on Gitmo. They needed to be ready, to know exactly what they were up against.

Finally, after hours of orders and planning, Tom was out of ideas. It reminded him of the years in the Academy and straight out of the Academy, when everything was new and his brain was on overdrive. Well, everything was definitely new again. Back then, he loved to run, and his best ideas would always come to him while running the sidewalks in Annapolis and Norfolk and San Diego. So Tom headed to the gym. Maybe he'd think of something else there.

It was past 2200, and the gym was empty. Tom bypassed his usual weights and stepped on one of the treadmills. It had been a long time since he had just run, with no end goal. After a few minutes, his gasping and burning legs reminded him just how much older he was than when he used to do it. But he got back into the groove of it, and that's when he started to let his mind wander.

Darien and the kids were alive. They were with his dad. Every single fiber in Tom's body screamed that he needed to go get them, he needed to go save them. But he knew, just as certainly, that he couldn't. As good as it would feel the second that he took them into his arms, he wasn't a man who could abandon his country (and the entire world) just to keep his family safe. Even if he could save them, he would be leaving the entire mission, the vaccine, and Doctor Scott to an unfriendly world. No, he had to do this first. Tom knew that Darien would understand if he could explain it to her. She was a navy wife.

The video of his family had cut to his heart, and after it ended, Tom had cried for the first time since Sam was born. He had given himself five minutes, just five, to cry for them and to think about the lives that they were living. But when those five minutes were up, Tom left the comm room and tried to keep them from his mind. He couldn't do anything for them now but the mission, and so the mission was his focus.

So, two miles into his run, Tom did it again. He pushed his family from his mind, Darien's eyes and Sam's hair and Ashley's smile, and he replaced them with what he had come there for. What else did they need to do? How could they pull this off? What did they need? Four miles later, Tom had a plan.

Running had worked, although Tom had a feeling that he was going to be much sorer tomorrow morning than he would have been 15 years before. Tom slowed down to a walk just as he hit seven miles. He pulled the collar of his _Nathan James_ t-shirt over his head to wipe the sweat from his face, and as he did that, he heard someone else enter the gym. Pulling his shirt back down, Tom saw that it was Doctor Scott.

The scientist smiled at him as she got on the treadmill next to him. "You look beat, Captain."

"Just running off some stress. Been a long day."

The doctor nodded at him, a resigned smile on her face. Well, she had much more time to get used to all of this. "That it has been. I think we just about have a list of what we're going to need to retrofit the lab to make the vaccine. Of course, I'm sure I'll remember everything I left off of the list halfway through my run."

"Same. I was just here remembering all of the things that I forgot to do." Tom told her as he stopped moving entirely on the treadmill. He turned it off and stepped down. He had forgotten how strange it felt to walk after running on a treadmill. "By the way, can you put together a presentation for some of the guys going to Gitmo? I want them to know about the virus, what it does, how it spreads, how to protect themselves."

Tom leaned up against the front of her treadmill, looking up for an answer. Doctor Scott nodded as she started her warm-up.

"Happy to. When?"

"Tomorrow? 0930? Your lab?"

"No problem at all, Captain. Any info you want in particular?"

"Just enough that they know what they're going to be dealing with. What we know, what we don't."

The doctor nodded at him, and they smiled at each other for a second before she started running. "Goodnight, Captain Chandler."

"Goodnight, Doctor Scott."

* * *

Rachel was not happy. Who did Captain Chandler think that he was? Keeping her on the ship because she was "too valuable" but going off himself on this mission to Guantanamo? She felt like her relationship with him was two steps forward and one step back. As soon as she thought that they had started building trust and understanding, something would happen and she would again feel like it was her against the world.

She knew, just knew, that if Chandler died and she was left to work with Slattery as commander, that the mission wouldn't go forward. Slattery wasn't a bad man, but he still held a grudge against her for the lies. Not that she truly blamed him. The man had lost a son who might have been saved if he had been able to warn his family, but the mission was more important. And she just didn't think that Slattery trusted her enough to complete the mission.

So that was how Rachel found herself walking to CIC, mulling it over. She didn't like being left behind, didn't like feeling like everyone else was moving the mission forward while she was being treated like some kind of dainty flower. Rachel Scott was anything but dainty.

Unfortunately, it only got worse once she was in the CIC. She had been so engrossed in her own world, dealing only with the Captain and Quincy and occasionally Slattery, that she really hadn't noticed how much they hated her. But when she walked into the CIC, she already felt completely out of place. Their eyes lingered on her, unfriendly. No one wanted her there.

Rachel Scott had spent a lot of her life feeling out of place. Traveling with her parents, then boarding school, then college at 16. She had never really fit in. Rachel had spent decades, since her childhood, really, putting up walls. How many times had she told herself that she didn't care if they liked her? That she didn't need them? That she was stronger alone anyway? So many times.

She had let in Quincy, but only a little. He was her friend, but he was a work friend. There were still walls there, still barriers. She had let in Michael, too. But Rachel shook her head, banishing the thought. This was NOT the time to be thinking of Michael.

Rachel took the headset from Lieutenant Foster. She liked Foster, the young woman was friendly enough. At least Foster didn't let her disdain show on the outside. Rachel couldn't say as much for the man to Foster's left, Hishoka.

"Look, I understand that people aren't particularly thrilled with me," Rachel found herself telling them. "But I had orders. From the Pentagon."

Hishoka wasn't so easily convinced, but Foster nodded. "We understand orders. We follow them every day."

Rachel was again reminded why she liked Foster. The woman was one ally among a room of skeptics. When the men on the ground reached the hospital and Foster asked Rachel if the cruise ship had been like that, Rachel could see a little bit of understanding start to cross her face. For the first time, the regular sailors were actually seeing the effects of the virus. Hopefully, with that information, they wouldn't hold her actions against her.

The hour in the CIC flew by. Rachel hadn't believed the Captain when he'd told her that if his men could knock ICBMs out of the sky that they could get her what she needed, but she had to admit, he had been right. And when Green and the men risked their lives in that hospital to get what she needed, Rachel realized that she hadn't given these people enough credit. They knew what was at stake, and they were fighting just as hard as she was to complete the mission.

Standing behind Lieutenant Foster in the CIC watching those men fight with everything that they had to get out of the hospital before they suffocated only strengthened that realization. She saw the pain on Foster's face in front of her, heard Green reassuring Admiral Halsey, and she realized that Chandler had been right. These people were strong, they were a team, and honestly, she wanted to be part of it.

Rachel turned her attention away from her thoughts just in time to hear the shot that hit Cruz and to hear Green yell that they needed a doctor. This was it. She was going to have to prove her worth to the crew, to show them that they could trust her. Rachel turned to Slattery, to her left. He was going to be hard to sell on this.

"Commander," she said. Slattery looked surprised that she would even speak to him right now, but she kept going. "I worked a year in a trauma ward in Mogadishu."

Silence was heavy in the air for a moment before he spoke. "Gear up."

Rachel pulled off her helmet and rushed out of the CIC. Chandler was going to be mad, but she would deal with that later. Today, this crew had earned her respect. She was going to show them that she was just as worthy of theirs.

* * *

When Slattery told Tom that Doctor Scott had gone out to save Cruz, he knew that he should be mad. She had disobeyed a direct order, an order given by him on his ship. But he wasn't mad, and he wasn't even going to pretend that he was. He knew exactly what was going on with the Doctor, and he just knew that he needed to talk to her.

For those months in the Arctic, she'd been cold and unfriendly. He pegged her as a condescending, self-righteous academic and hadn't given her a second thought. But he'd been wrong. She had merely been struggling with the weight of the secret that she was keeping.

Later, he'd thought that she was a soft academic, unprepared for the rigors that faced them. He'd been proven wrong once again. He started to doubt his impression when she told him about Mogadishu, but he knew it as soon as he watched her in the makeshift hospital room on the ship. He had never realized the horrors of disease that she faced every day until they saw those bodies, hundreds of them, dead, contorted. She had been right, it was worse than battle.

Then, he saw her with the survivor. The man was muttering in Italian, asking for help, dying. Tom could barely stomach it, but Doctor Scott was calm and collected. She wasn't emotional or soft, but she gave the man the mercy that he deserved. At that moment, Tom knew that there was more to her than he knew.

But he was the only one. And the hurt of her ostracization was clear every time that she interacted with the crew. So when Mike told him what she had done, he knew why.

Not that she wasn't actually competent and brave and willing to risk her lives for others, that was part of it, of course, but he also knew that she was still trying to prove herself to the crew. If she didn't get over that, she was going to put herself into dangerous situations. Too dangerous. Tom knew that like he had, the crew would come to respect her as they got to know her. They would have to. He just needed her to keep herself safe until that happened.

Tom walked into sickbay. Rios was working on Garnett, and Tom spoke to her briefly before turning to Doctor Scott. Scott was working on their new private security contractor, but she was bloody herself. Not her blood, Tom reminded himself.

He meant to speak up, but he couldn't help just watching her for a moment. He might have figured out why she went to save Cruz, but he knew that there was much more to that woman than he had figured out. He had to admit that he was curious.

"She saved him," Lieutenant Green said, looking at Cruz, smiling. Well, it looked like she had earned Green's respect, and that would go a long way with a lot of the crew. Tom smiled, and so did Scott.

"She's gonna save us all. Right, Doctor Scott?"

"Well, hopefully we'll save each other."

The private security guy made some comment. Tom wasn't listening to him. He turned back to Scott.

"Word?" Tom asked.

Doctor Scott followed him outside. Turning around, watching her, Tom noticed that she looked exhausted. She wasn't fighting him; instead, she looked ready to take her licks. For the first time, Tom noticed how small she was. He noticed her dirty shirt, her messy hair, but despite all of that, despite the exhaustion, she still radiated strength.

"I know," she told him, glancing away at the floor of the p-way before meeting his eyes. "Don't do it again."

Damn, Tom thought, she looked like a little kid. "You don't have anything to prove. If that's what it was about." She had to realize that she already had his respect and Green's respect. She was strong. The rest would follow.

She didn't say anything. Her brown eyes locked with his, and she looked surprised. He knew it then, knew that he was right about her. She felt like an outsider. This woman who had fought the entire U.S. Navy to get on his ship, who had fought to save the world, who was saving the world; how could she even look so lost, so young?

Tom locked eyes with her. She had to know that she was respected and trusted. "And don't do it again."

Tom kept his eyes on her as he turned around, letting what he said sink in. He hoped that she would hear him, would know what he was trying to say. But as he walked, he heard the security contractor calling to her from sickbay. And just for a second, he felt jealousy clinch deep in the pit of his stomach. What the hell?


	3. Dead Reckoning

After she spoke to the Captain, Rachel couldn't get what he had said out of her mind. Ruskov was claiming that he had something that she needed to make the vaccine? What on Earth could it be? She had told Chandler and Slattery that he had to be bluffing, but she couldn't help but wonder, to doubt herself.

Rachel decided to get some food before she went back to the lab. She hadn't eaten anything substantial in a long time. Probably 24 hours. She wasn't hungry, but she was a doctor. She knew that without food, she wouldn't be able to work.

They had gotten supplies at Guantanamo, so the quality was better than she'd seen in a while. Baked beans, bacon, green beans, and some kind of meat. Very American. What did they call it? Soul food? As soon as she took a bite, it set loose the hunger within her. Rachel made a note to herself to eat more.

Just as she was shoving a comically large bite into her mouth, the door opened and Captain Chandler walked in. Rachel looked up, mouth filled with food. She just knew that she looked like a deer in the headlights. A deer stuffing its face in the headlights.

"Hungry, Doctor?" the Captain asked, a grin on his face.

She just nodded, cheeks warming. She certainly couldn't answer with her mouth this full.

The Captain chuckled and walked over to get himself a plate. Rachel chewed furiously while his back was turned, just managing to swallow the large lump of meat as he turned around. She reached over for her water bottle and took a sip to wash the food down.

Captain Chandler sat down across from her. She noticed that he'd gotten mostly vegetables and a salad. Her plate looked like the food of a high school boy in comparison to his healthy meal. She was embarrassed for a moment, before she told herself to stop being silly.

"Have you met Bacon?" the Captain asked her before he had even taken a bite.

"Bacon? Is that a person?" she asked.

Chandler grinned at her. "Yeah, he's in charge of the galley. Big guy. Damn good cook. Although it looks to me like you figured that one out."

"Funny, Captain," she said, but she couldn't help but flash him a smile over the table. He grinned back as he took a bite of his salad.

Rachel watched him for a moment. He was a handsome man, she thought. Those blue eyes, the salt and pepper hair, and that jawline. After just a moment, Rachel banished the thoughts from her mind. He was married, for God's sake.

"You know, the first time I ever went to America was for graduate school. I did my Ph.D. in Virology at Yale. I had been in boarding school near London then at Oxford and Cambridge since I was 12, so it was absolute culture shock." Rachel watched Chandler as she told the story, and she could tell that he was listening closely as she talked. She had realized that she didn't know anything about this man, and he knew nothing of her. But if they were really going to trust each other, they would have to get to know one another.

"So during my third week of classes, my professor went to Atlanta for a conference at the CDC, and accompanied him. I was so excited, but I had no idea what I was in for. It was September and it was brutally hot. Hottest I had been since I went to India as a child. We went to the conference for a couple of days, and then one of my professor's friends in the area invited us to an American football game."

Rachel paused, and the Captain was still grinning at her, eyes sparkling. He was clearly intrigued.

"So anyway," Rachel continued. "I'm sure you know where this is going. I went to the game. It was actually at a college, filled with drunk kids my age having fun. And you know, I had a damn blast. The team lost, but I didn't care. Didn't care that it was hot either."

"And then, on the way back, the man pulled over at this ramshackle little place a few minutes off of the highway. It looked like something from a western movie, but it was actually a tiny restaurant. We ate there, and it was the best food I have ever had in my life. Soul food, I think he called it?"

The Captain was grinning ear to ear. "A young Doctor Rachel Scott at a hole in the wall plate lunch joint in rural Georgia? Wish that I had been there to see that."

"Oh, we were a sight to be seen. Sweaty and dirty, and maybe a little drunk. But that is when I fell in love with American food. It makes British food seem like cardboard. And I have to say, you were right, your Bacon is good. Reminds me why I spent so much time in Atlanta."

The Captain had finished eating by the time she finished the story, but he didn't move to get up.

"Not going to argue with you on that. Can't beat it. I spent middle school in Louisiana near Fort Polk. Damn good food." Chandler leaned back in his seat, stretching his hands above his head. He looked satisfied.

"I know. Didn't realize how lucky I was in Atlanta until I had to go back to England for a few months with Michael." She realized instantly that she had said too much, saw his curiosity pique. But he was a gentleman, and he didn't ask. Rachel just kept speaking, trying not to miss a beat. "Missed America more than I thought."

Chandler looked tempted to ask her about her slip, but he didn't. Thank God. She wasn't ready to talk about that yet.

"I know that feeling. Have to say I'm missing America myself," the Captain told her. His smile was gone, and she could tell that his thoughts were with his family. The joviality was broken.

"I miss it too. Never thought I would, but America gets under your skin. Becomes part of you, I guess."

Chandler did smile at that. He was certainly a patriot. "I hear Americans are the same way."

"Oh, that is definitely true, Captain. I know a few Americans who get under my skin all the time." And they laughed together, empty plates in front of them.

* * *

Only hours later, Tom stood in the p-way talking to Doctor Scott. He couldn't believe that Quincy had almost released the virus on his crew. Tom was trying not to show his anger, but he could feel the red-hot fire just beneath the surface, burning, begging to be released to defend his men.

He listened to Rachel try to explain it, but she couldn't. He heard the frustration, the exasperation in her voice, as she turned to him.

"It doesn't make sense." That was all that she had. He could tell just from looking at her that she was telling the truth, she didn't have a better reason either. But that just wasn't good enough.

"He was trying to take you to Roskov?" Tom asked her, looking for confirmation. Scott nodded, but she didn't verbalize a response. Just like the last time they had spoken in a p-way, she looked absolutely exhausted.

"Hey," he said, trying to get her attention again, trying to encourage her. Scott looked up at him. "You did good. You escaped from him, and you saved the mission. That took guts." Tom reached out to touch her arm, to drive home his message. She gave him a tired smile, but he could tell that she was still just confused.

Tom kept going. "So did you have hostage negotiator training that you didn't tell me about? You were great in there. You saved all of us by taking the vial."

That one got her, and she smiled back at him. "Actually, you might find it hard to believe, but yes. Had a week long crash course in hostage negotiation before I went to Colombia."

Colombia? Tom again found himself curious. He wanted more about this woman's story. He wanted to know what made her tick. But this was neither the time nor the place.

"Colombia, huh? I want to hear that story some time. Aren't you just a woman of mystery?" Tom grinned at her, and he earned himself a smile back. And suddenly, he felt himself compelled to reach out, to hug her, to reassure her. He wished that he could, but instead he steered the topic back to more comfortable waters.

"Well, Mike is talking to Quincy now. We'll figure out why he did this, and we'll try to use him to get to Ruskov. Don't you worry, it'll be ok."

Rachel nodded at him. "Thanks, Captain. Please let me know what you learn."

"You got it. Now go take some time to yourself. I better not find you back in the lab." But as Tom walked away, he could see in her eyes that she wouldn't listen. She was close, and she wasn't going to stop. That was why he believed in her.

* * *

Rachel went to her room after the successful mission through the canal. It had actually worked! They had tricked the Russians and escaped, although just by the skin of their teeth. She knew that this wouldn't be the end, but for now, she was feeling much better. Despite Quincy's betrayal, things felt like they were looking up.

After a long shower, Rachel changed into her pajamas and snuggled into her bunk. She knew that she wouldn't last long, but she still opened up one of the books that she had. The boring book on viruses would either teach her something useful or put her to sleep, both of which sounded good to her.

But before Rachel had even finished the first page, a knock came at her door. She couldn't imagine who other than Quincy would be coming to see her, and it clearly was not Quincy tonight. She pulled herself out of bed, telling whoever at the door that she was coming. She hoped that whoever it was didn't mind seeing her in a tank top and pajama pants.

Opening the door, Rachel was surprised to see Tom Chandler. However, that surprise was nothing compared to her surprise over how he looked. In fact, the Captain looked terrible. Emotional. If she didn't know better, she would have thought that he had been crying.

"Come in, Captain," she said, ushering him into her cabin and closing the door securely behind him. She hoped that he hadn't been spotted. The last thing that she needed was the _Nathan James_ rumor mill getting ahold of anything between her and their Captain just as she was earning their trust.

The Captain's eyes raked over her like they were seeing her for the first time. For a second, Rachel felt exposed, but she reminded herself that she was being silly. The Captain was married.

"I'm sorry," Chandler said, looking over at her messy bed. "I didn't realize that you were in bed. I didn't think…" The Captain let his words trail off.

"No, no, I was just reading," Rachel said, taking a step over and picking up the book. She held it so he could see the blue-tinted petri dish on the cover. "See, _Applied Virology and Pathenogenesis of Sub-Tropical Diseases_. I doubt you'll be surprised to hear that it's not exactly a thrilling read."

He forced a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "So what brings you to my lovely cabin?" Rachel asked.

Chandler shook his head. "I shouldn't have bothered you, I'm sorry." He reached for the hatch. Rachel laid her hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"Really, Captain, I'm glad that you came by. What's on your mind?"

She saw him hesitate. He was on high alert, and she sensed more than saw him struggling with his fight or flight reflex. After a few moments, however, Chandler turned around to face her. Rachel lifted her hand from his shoulder and took a step back, sitting down on her bunk. She patted the spot next to her, but Chandler just leaned back against the metal desk on the other side of her cabin.

"I spoke to Quincy."

"Well?" Her question hung in the air for seconds that felt like hours.

"He asked me what I would have done. If it was my family." Another heavy pause, but Rachel didn't dare speak. "And I didn't have an answer for him."

Rachel looked at him, standing there, bent against her desk. He was wearing the same BDUs as always. But instead of his usual strong, imposing figure, he just looked unsure. Worried. Scared? Rachel saw the pain on his face, and it pained her.

"Captain – Tom," she started. His first name felt natural on her lips. "You're a good man. You would have made the right decis—"

Before she could finish, he cut her off. "No. Stop. This was a mistake. I shouldn't be talking to you about this. Sorry for bothering you." He was gone before Rachel could say another word. Rachel stared at the hatch through which the Captain had just fled.

Why had he come to her? For reassurance that he was a good man? At first she thought that it was because she knew Quincy, but really, his question hadn't been about Quincy. It had been about him. Did he think that he could be more honest to her, since she was a civilian?

Rachel didn't have an answer to her questions, but she realized that she wanted to talk to him. She wanted him to open up. She had opened up to him a few times, but he hadn't given her anything in return. It was there, sitting on her bunk, with the clang of Tom Chandler slamming her hatch still ringing, that Rachel realized what was happening. She had a crush on Tom Chandler. Uh oh.

* * *

Hope everyone is enjoying this. It's slow, but only because Tom and Rachel start off so slow in the show. In my mind, I see Rachel admitting that she has a crush on Tom pretty early, but the Captain is going to be much harder on himself about what he feels for her. I really don't think that he would ever admit his feelings for Rachel until Darien dies, but we'll just have to see where the muse takes us. If anyone has any thoughts, please comment and let me know!


	4. We'll Get There

Thank you guys so much for all of the comments! They're what keep me writing. I really appreciate all of great feedback! I'm working now through "Two Sailors Walk Into a Bar" and the kiss, and I promise, it's coming soon and it will be good! So enjoy!

* * *

Tom was mortified. What the hell had he done, barging into the Doctor's cabin like that? She had clearly been in bed, even sleeping. It had been completely inappropriate of him to even go to her cabin, not to mention the fact that he actually stepped inside of it with her so scantily clad. Tom felt his cheeks warm just thinking about it. Yeah, he was mortified, even before getting to the fact that he had actually started to spill his worries to her. What was wrong with him?

He shook his head at himself and made an internal promise that it wouldn't happen again. It couldn't. Tom forced himself to look forward. He was standing on the stern of the ship, watching the wake trail that the _Nathan James_ left behind it. The sun was rising over the horizon behind the ship, sending Caribbean colors scattered across the sky.

Tom had always liked watching the wake behind boats. When he joined the navy, he liked it because it reminded him of fishing with his dad when he was a boy. He would always sit on the starboard side of the boat, behind the console, and would watch the wake flow behind them. But now, the wake behind flowing behind the _Nathan James_ reminded him of ship after ship, deployment after deployment. It was comforting, yes, but not nostalgic. Not anymore. One more thing that he had given the Navy.

Turning as he heard footsteps behind him, Tom almost cringed when he saw Doctor Scott. She was going to try to talk to him about last night. She was going to try to ask him about what he said. God, the last thing that he needed was some virologist trying to play psychologist on him based on one mistaken comment.

"Morning," she said. He nodded at her curtly but didn't say a word. Rachel handed him a steaming cup of coffee as she stopped next to him, leaning against the ship. Tom had to admit that coffee sounded great right about now.

"Careful," she warned. "It's hot. But Granderson was in the wardroom when I was and she told me how you like your coffee."

Tom looked down, and he had to admit, the coffee looked damn good. He looked back up at her and saw her sipping from her own mug. "Didn't know that you were a coffee drinker, Doctor."

"I'm not. Tea." She held up the cup, tilting it at him to show the contents. "As much as I loved America, I never could understand Americans and their coffee."

Doctor Scott took another sip of her tea and turned away from Tom, turned to look at the rising sun. He watched her for a second. She looked good, healthy. Well-rested.

"Pretty sunrise."

Tom nodded. "It is. But a colorful sunrise usually means bad weather."

"You sailors and your fascination with weather and omens." She looked back at him, smiling. Tom smiled back and leaned against the ship, their shoulders only inches from touching.

"We're superstitious, I'll give you that. But I'll deny admitting it on my deathbed."

He looked over at her and his eyes met hers. They just looked at each other for a moment. It would have been awkward with anyone else, but with her, he felt like it never was. Then she gave him a brief nod, just an acknowledgement, breaking the gaze.

Reaching out, the Doctor briefly touched his forearm, barely making contact before pulling away. "Your secret is safe with me, Captain." Her meaning was clear.

Tom watched her as she walked away. He had been terrified that she would want to talk, that she would want to discuss what had happened. Once again, she had surprised him, exceeding his expectations. She wasn't going to make this awkward, and for that, Tom was very thankful.

Looking back out at the sea, Tom took a sip of the coffee that she had brought him. Perfect. It seemed that Doctor Scott was always full of surprises.

* * *

After speaking to Chung about the engine fire, Tom slipped off briefly to the lab. It seemed crazy that only months before, the area had been the helo bay. Now, he had a hard time imagining the _Nathan James_ without the laboratory, and without its favorite scientist, Doctor Rachel Scott.

Entering, he found her sitting in her chair, staring at the desktop background on her computer. The picture was of her and a man, young and rakishly good looking. In the photo, she was looking up at the man. She had been in love. Tom wondered if that man was the Michael that she had accidently mentioned a few days before in the wardroom.

"Doctor," he said loudly, announcing his presence. She turned to look at him, hastily rubbing at her eyes. She had been crying. For some reason, his heart wrenched at the sight.

"Yes, Captain?" she said, slamming down the laptop to get rid of the photograph. Tom looked away, gave her a moment to compose herself. After a few heartbeats, she continued, "What brings you here?"

"I'm coming from Engineering. The engines are blown, but we have one generator. I told Chung that keeping power to you was the top priority."

"Thank you." Scott wiped at her nose with the sleeve of her sweater.

"Not a problem. I need you to let me know immediately if there are any power issues."

That got a faint smile from her. "Believe me, Captain, I'll let you know. Have I ever been too quiet about what my lab needs?"

Tom laughed. "Point taken."

Neither of them moved. She knew that he wasn't just there to tell her about the power. He could have sent anyone for that. They were silent for a bit before he continued.

"I've sent Mike to speak to Quincy for you. Mike is…very convincing. Did you know that he actually used to be with the Chicago PD?"

Scott shook her head. "No, I didn't. Well thank you for sending him. I know he's not my biggest fan, but I appreciate all of the help."

Tom nodded at her. "Of course. And Mike does like you. He's just, well, he can be loyal to a fault sometimes. But he's coming around."

"I hope so." Doctor Scott did not look convinced. Well, Tom thought, this was getting awkward. Time for him to go.

He went to turn around, but he stopped himself. He glanced back at Doctor Scott, but she was looking at the floor in front of her feet.

"Anyway, Doctor, I need to get to the bridge. Let me know what you need."

"Of course."

"Oh, and Rachel?" Her head shot up when he used her first name. Tom realized that he hadn't ever done that before, and this might not have been the best time. But it was too late, and it did feel natural. "Quincy is wrong about you. You have friends."

He could feel her eyes boring into his back as he left the lab.

* * *

"The breakthrough that I've been working towards, it's happened. I have a vaccine prototype and it's time to test."

Rachel let the words hang in the air for a moment, taking in the look on Chandler's face. "I would have brought champagne, but…"

The Captain grinned. "This will do just fine," he said, holding the tea that she had brought him up in celebration.

Rachel felt like she was on top of the damned world. Now, at least, they knew exactly what they were up against, and finally, she was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, they could do this.

Looking over at the Captain, she saw him sitting in his chair, looking at the night sky. Rachel had to admit, the sky was absolutely beautiful here in the middle of the Caribbean.

"The night skies out here are beautiful. You know, until we went to the Arctic, I had never seen anything like it."

Chandler turned to her, taking another sip of his tea. He didn't like it, but no one could accuse Captain Tom Chandler of not being a good sport.

"Let's hope that you don't get used to these skies. I, for one, plan on being back home to our terrible American skies as soon as possible."

Rachel nodded. "I will drink to that. To going home."

"To going home," the Captain said, and they both took sips of the tea in unison. Chandler still grimaced at the taste.

"You don't have to drink that, you know," she told him, reaching out to take the cup. Chandler shook his head and pulled the cup back into his body, protecting it from her grasp.

"Oh, you don't touch this mug. Don't get me wrong, this _camelisis_ shit is terrible, but this is my celebration tea. Superstitious, remember?"

Rachel let her hand fall to her side and laughed. "I remember. How could I forget? You damn sailors…"

"Hey now, you like us damn sailors."

Rachel chuckled and looked up at the Captain. "Guilty," she admitted. His eyes caught hers as she spoke, and they sent a shiver down her spine. His entire face was lit up with his smile, and his eyes (how were they so blue?) just seemed like the most handsome thing that she had ever seen. Rachel wrenched her gaze away from his. She _could not_ be thinking those things about Chandler.

"Anyway…" Rachel said, breaking the silence. She hoped that her voice didn't sound as shaky as it felt. "I need to get back to the lab. Have to keep a close eye on everything in case there are power troubles."

Chandler nodded, understanding. "Well thanks for the…uh, tea. And keep up the good work. We're all pulling for you."

"Thank you, Captain. Enjoy the _camellia sinensis_." Rachel turned away and walked out without looking at Chandler again. She _really_ needed to get this crush under control.

* * *

The night that they got the parachutes up, Rachel found herself wandering up from the lab to the forecastle. When she had first come to the _Nathan James_ , she had found the ship so confusing, with so many winding hallways that looked the same and an entire dictionary of specific terminology. Now, not even six months later, she had to admit that the ship felt more like home than almost anywhere else she had lived. She was proud of how fast she had learned the Navy's special names for everything.

When she reached the forecastle, she found Captain Chandler already up there. He was perched up in what looked like a lawn chair, just sitting, looking at the chutes. Rachel had to admit that they looked majestic, light from the bridge shimmering off of the silky gray material. Before she had decided whether she wanted to turn around to avoid the Captain, he turned and saw her.

"Doctor Scott. Come have a seat!" Chandler gestured to the other chair next to him. Rachel warned herself not to do this, to make an excuse. She had told herself just the other night that she needed to get this schoolgirl crush under control.

Despite her thoughts, Rachel's legs were already walking over to where the Captain sat. "How on earth did you manage to get two beach chairs up on the forecastle?" she asked, settling herself down into one of the chairs. She had to admit that it was nice, the breeze in her face and the silvery chutes reflecting off of the deck and the sea below.

"Captain's privilege," Chandler responded, amusement in his voice. Yes, she could tell without even looking that he was pleased with himself. Deservedly, she thought.

"Well, Captain, thank you for sharing. And thank you even more for what you did today. This parachute…thing. The lab is operating perfectly."

"Good to hear, Doctor."

Rachel looked over at Chandler, noting the way the moving shadows danced on his chiseled face. He was sprawled out on the chair, legs askew, in a t-shirt and BDU pants. For the first time in a while, he looked relaxed. Rachel turned away from him, looking up at the chutes.

"I used to sail when I was a girl, with my father. He loved the water. These chutes remind me of him, of his spinnaker lessons," Rachel said. The words were out before she even had a chance to think about them.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rachel saw Chandler glance over at her. She sensed his eyes linger on her, but she kept her focus on the chutes.

"Really? I didn't know that you were a sailor, Doctor."

"I'm a woman of mystery." As soon as the words left her mouth, Rachel mentally hit herself. That was corny. But Chandler just laughed.

"Well, I did know that."

Rachel didn't fight the smile that crept on to her face. They were silent for a few seconds, but it wasn't awkward. It was…companionable.

"I was never much of a sailor. My father wanted me to learn, wanted me to love the water like he did. But I just never took to it." Rachel tried not to sound too melancholy, but it was hard to speak about her father without sadness.

The Captain must have noticed. He reached a hand out to her, giving her hand a quick, chaste squeeze before retreating back to his own space in his chair. "Well, you've taken to it now. I'm sure that he would be proud of you."

Rachel let her smile return and finally turned her head, looking over at Tom Chandler. He was looking at her, his face serious but friendly. "Thank you, Captain. That means a lot." They both turned away to look at the chutes, sitting in companionable silence. Yes, Rachel thought, Tom was right. Her father would be proud.

* * *

They had been without water for almost two days when Tom decided to go reassure the crew. The decision was hard. He was impossibly thirsty, his mouth cottony, and his head pounded like the worst hangover he'd ever had. His face burned from where he had shaved with salt water, and he would have traded almost anything for a shower. But he was the Captain, and this was his job.

Tom stopped to check on Engineering, the only ones on the ship still working at full speed. They were the real heroes here. He just hoped that Chung didn't blame himself for this situation. He checked on CIC next, finding just scattered crew. Wherever he went, he tried to reassure them, but the words sounded empty even to himself.

Eventually, Tom found himself in the aft storage bay. It looked like a disaster zone. His crew was laid out on the floor: sick, thirsty, dying. He counted at least fifteen of them. He saw Green and Tex in a corner, sitting listlessly, trying to conserve water. And he saw Rachel Scott, nursing his men.

He watched her for a few minutes, taking advantage of the fact that everyone was too lethargic to notice his presence. She had a little bit of water in a plastic bottle, and she was going from man to man, giving them a little water along with her own brand of optimism. Tom knew that he couldn't give them what she did; it wasn't naval, but instead almost motherly.

He watched her stop alongside Petty Officer Moore, raising his head just a few inches and squirting some water into his mouth. Tom could just make out what she was telling the seaman. _There you go, drink it all. See, don't you feel better? Don't you worry one bit, sweetie, we'll have plenty of water in a few hours. The Captain will get us there_ , _and you'll be on a beach before you know it._

Tom startled at her words. Just as he was mulling them over, Scott stood up and saw him in the door. She gave him a tired smile and wandered over. He met her halfway, coming to a stop in the middle of the bay. He could see Tex's attention turn to them, but Tom didn't care one bit.

"How are things down here?" he asked, his voice hushed.

"We've only got a few more gallons. I'm trying to preserve it, but if this goes much longer, we're either going to have to start giving them more or start making some very hard decisions." Tom saw the hard expression on her face. She had done this before. She had made those decisions. He decided then that one of these days, they were going to talk about her past. But today was not that day.

"We won't get to that," he responded, looking out over the men behind her.

She nodded at him, but didn't answer. She was skeptical, and he didn't blame her. He wondered again about her past.

"How are _you_ doing?"

Her eyes had fallen to the ground in front of her, but they shot back up when he asked the question. Her dark brown eyes met his, but she didn't smile.

"I'm ok. I'll be better when we hit Serrano Bank."

"I don't want you to go without water. Remember, Doctor, you are the mission. I appreciate you helping these men, and I know that they do too, but you need to stay hydrated."

"Don't worry, Captain. I know my limits." The words came out of her mouth, but the lines of her face told him that she wasn't going to listen to a word. And could he really blame her? He wouldn't listen either, in her position.

"Well then, we're good," Tom said, both of them knowing that she was lying. "Let me know if anything changes with any of my guys."

She nodded and started to turn back to the men. Before she could go, he whispered to her, just for her "and please, take care of yourself." She didn't turn, but from the stiffening of her back, she heard him loud and clear. Tom turned around and left without looking back.


	5. El Toro

Alright guys, this one is short, but more are coming. I had a tough week and I'm traveling this weekend, but I'm hoping to wrap up Season 1 by the end of the weekend. So enjoy, more will be coming soon!

* * *

The morning that they were to leave Serrano Bank, Rachel went ashore. Burke was bringing a team to the island to top off the _Nathan James's_ water tanks, and Rachel had asked to go with them. Although it was unlikely, it was possible that monkeys inhabited the island. If they did, then they might be able to skip the trip down to the preserve in Costa Rica.

Unfortunately, her initial impression of the island had been correct. While the men pumped water into the ship, she had investigated the surrounding jungle, but she didn't find anything larger than seagulls and iguanas. She did, at least, get to walk barefoot on the beach for a few minutes before getting back in the RIB, and that made the excursion all worth it.

When she returned to the _Nathan James_ , her boots were in hand and her feet were still sandy. As the men got the RIB out of the water, she saw Captain Chandler nearby on the aft deck. He was speaking to Green and Jeter, but he wrapped his conversation up and headed over to her when he saw her board.

"Any luck, Doctor Scott?" the Captain asked. Rachel shook her head and shrugged. She had told him that it was a long shot.

"Well, it looks like you at least got some beach time," the Captain replied to her gesture, pointing at the boots in her hand and her bare feet.

"Yes, I did," Rachel said. "It's been a while since I was on a beach without being under fire." They both knew that she was referencing her time at Guantanamo, when she had saved Cruz's life on the Cuban beach. The Captain nodded.

"Well, you deserve the R&R."

While chatting, they had moved to the edge of the ship to get out of the way of the men packing up the RIB. Rachel was close to the lifelines, and she rested a hand on the top lifeline for balance. Chandler was leaning up against the lifelines, hip against the metal cords, facing her. A Caribbean breeze ruffled through his hair, and sent her hair flying around her head. Rachel reached up, flattening her rebellious locks, and gave the Captain a shy smile. He grinned back at her.

"So what's the plan now? Do we still need to set course for Costa Rica?" The Captain's question was all business but Rachel felt as if his gaze on her was anything but professional. She banished the thought after a second. Clearly, her crush was making her imagine things.

"Uh…yeah. Costa Rica. We're going to need the monkeys to test the vaccine prototype."

They were silent again, his eyes heavy against her face. Rachel looked away, over the sea, avoiding his piercing gaze.

"My daughter started a club at her middle school to protest testing on animals. Something about the polar bears dying and people putting make-up on monkeys."

Well, Rachel definitely hadn't expected him to say that. She looked up at him, saw the smile on his face. As absurd as this situation was, she couldn't help but smile back.

"She sounds like a smart girl with very strong opinions. And knowing you, I can see where she got that."

The Captain laughed. He was still looking at her, but Rachel could tell that he was thousands of miles away, thinking of his family. She wished that she could give his family back to him.

"If that's a nice way of saying that she sounds as stubborn as her old man, you would be 100% right." The wistful tone in his voice made Rachel's heart ache for him. She realized then just what he had given up for her mission, for her.

"Well, Captain, I can promise you, we won't be putting any makeup on these monkeys."

* * *

The day before the mission to Nicaragua, Tom went to find Doctor Scott in the lab. When he walked in, she was sitting at her desk, staring intensely at her computer. Always working, that one.

"Doctor," he called out, getting her attention. She didn't start at all. She must have heard him enter. Instead, she slowly rotated her chair around to face him. She was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, sitting Indian style in the office chair.

"Yes?"

"I talked to Mike, and I've got some questions about Nicaragua." Tom walked over to her and sat down in the other chair near her. Scott cocked her head at him, ready for his questions.

"Thirty miles up that river is going to put us out of radar and radio range. Have you ever been there before?"

Rachel nodded, leaning back into her chair before answering his question. Tom could see the memories in her eyes.

"Yes, once. It was probably seven or eight years ago though, so it has been a while."

"Why were you there?"

She looked a little surprised at the question. It wasn't exactly relevant to their issues right now, and Tom hoped that she didn't think that he was prying. He was just curious about her. There was a story behind her, he knew, and he wanted to know what it was. He couldn't exactly just come out and ask though.

"Some of the monkeys came down with a mystery disease. None of the local scientists could figure it out, so they brought me in. It was nothing serious. Ended up being a local variant of LPV that exhibited strange symptoms when it was comorbid with dengue."

"I see." Well, asking that question had gotten him nowhere. He had no idea what she had just told him, and he hadn't learned anything new about her at all. Maybe he should just ask about her past one day.

"It's not a big preserve, but the towns are relatively far away. Most of the monkeys congregate by the only fresh water source other than the river, which is a waterfall a little bit inland. I think that should be our first target."

" _Our_ first target? No way, you're not going that far from the ship."

Tom saw the objection in her eyes before she even opened her mouth. "I have to, Captain. As good as your men are, they won't know the differences between the primates. They'd bring me back thirty spider monkeys and not a single capuchin."

Tom just shook his head at her objection. Again, he had no idea what she was saying. Before he could even speak, she continued.

"Admit it, Captain. You don't even know the difference between a spider monkey and a capuchin. I need to go."

Well, he had to admit that she was right. Even though he didn't like it, Tom sighed and nodded, running a hand across his face. "Fine."

A smile beamed across the Doctor's face, and her dark eyes twinkled. And honestly, Tom couldn't blame her. He wouldn't want to be cooped up in this lab all the time either.

"But you're going to stay with me the entire time. You won't leave my sight. We're going to get in and out."

"Aye aye, Captain," she replied, laughing. He could see on her face that she was excited, and Tom couldn't help but smile back, shaking his head. There was just something about that woman's smile that couldn't help but cheer him up.

* * *

Rachel knew that something was wrong. She just knew it. And honestly, it terrified her. She was a woman of science, and she did _not believe_ in any of that bullshit about just knowing when something was wrong. But here she was, thirty miles away from the men in that RIB, and she _just knew_.

Tex had been trying to tell her all day that everything was ok. The first time, they had been sitting in the wardroom, and he had told her that they were probably all sitting around a fire eating marshmallows. The logical side of her knew that he was right, that there was no reason to worry, and that the men were probably fine. Despite that knowledge, the knot in her stomach never lessened.

Then later, when Tex had told her to come watch a movie, and she had gone. Oh, she knew that the Nevadan had his own motivations. His interest in her was certainly not veiled, and it was flattering. Tex wasn't an unattractive man, he made her laugh, and he was a civilian. She knew that logically, being with Tex wouldn't be that bad. And she had to admit that it would be damn nice to feel a man's arms around her and to snuggle into someone warm.

Again, though, for the first time ever, logic just wasn't working for her. As she agreed to go watch the movie with Tex, she knew that nothing would ever happen between the two of them. He was not the man on this ship that made her heart thud, not the man on the ship that took her breath away. Even if she couldn't have the one that she wanted, she wasn't going to settle. That wouldn't be fair to anyone.

So that's how she found herself on the couch next to Tex in the wardroom. She made it through above five minutes of the movie before her eyes got heavy, and she was out before the previews were over.

 _She was sitting next to Tom in a dirty, thatch-roofed hut. His hands were tied behind his back with thick, heavy rope, and he was bloody. Rachel wasn't tied up and she was clean, wearing her regular clothes. Normal. Tom looked at her with pain in his eyes._

 _"Save us," he croaked. "Please, Rachel."_

 _She tried to move over to him to untie the ropes behind his hands, but she could barely move. Her legs were so heavy, and moving her arms was like swimming in molasses. She was stuck there, next to him but unable to get any closer. Tom just looked at her with those sad blue eyes, hurting, and kept asking her. "Please, Rachel, please…"_

 _She felt like she was drugged, she could barely move. He kept whispering at her, but she couldn't get to him. She couldn't help. "Please, Rachel. Please help us. Please help me…"_

Rachel woke with a start, coming eye to eye with Tex above her. He tried to tell her that everyone was ok, that the men had fired the green flare. Logical Rachel knew that he was right, but her heart couldn't. She felt so lost. She had never been a position before where science and logic and the rules of evidence had failed here, but here she was. Now, Rachel didn't know what to believe.

She left Tex behind in the room. She couldn't be around him. It wasn't that he was wrong, it was just that she needed time alone. If he was right, and he _had_ to be, then her crush on the Captain was getting out of control. Was her crush really making her feel like this? Or was she actually right, and was everything that she had ever believed about the world and science wrong?

It had to be the first, right? Just a crush out of control. But Rachel had to admit that if her feelings for Chandler were causing her this much distress, they might be more than just an everyday crush.

"Well fuck," Rachel muttered to herself as she sat on the edge of her bunk, cradling her head in her hands. "What the hell is wrong with me?"


	6. Lockdown

The first thing that Tom did when he got back to the ship was track down Doctor Scott. His hair was still wet from his decontamination and his wrists stung from the antiseptic that had been used on his wounds. He knew that she would be informed of what happened by someone else, but something in him just wanted to tell her himself.

He checked the lab first, but it was empty. Tom felt a little disappointment that he wouldn't get the chance to talk to her, but before he even turned around, he heard her behind him.

"Captain!" she exclaimed. "You're back! Thank God. What happened?"

She ushered him into the lab, closing the door behind him.

"Got your monkeys, Doctor," he said. She beamed at his words. "Now I can't promise that they're the right ones. You were right, I don't know a spider money from a cap-whatever."

They both sat down in the same chairs that they had been sitting in just days before, when she had fought to come with him to Nicaragua. Doctor Scott curled up in the chair, feet underneath her small body. "That's fine, Captain. The difference is miniscule anyway, for our purposes."

They both leaned back in their chairs. He wondered if he should tell her what else they had found out there. He knew that Slattery wouldn't want to tell the crew, but even if they didn't, shouldn't she know? She wasn't the crew, she was different.

"We didn't just find monkeys out there," Tom told her. The air was quiet as she looked at him curiously, her eyes bidding him to continue.

"We came on a camp. There was a drug dealer. He had taken control of a village, total control. He was using the people as slaves, for food and labor. And…" Tom hesitated for a second before continuing, "and he was raping the girls." He kept his eyes on her. The Doctor raised her hand to her mouth in surprise, but she kept listening.

"They took us captive, but I convinced them to let us go. Told them that we just needed the monkeys. They actually got the monkeys for us and let us go. We were going to just leave, and I know that we should have, but we couldn't. We went back and stopped him. Saved those people. It was nice to help someone."

"My god," Rachel said, her eyes glued to his. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, we're all fine. Mason hurt his leg, but he'll be ok."

Her hand reached out as if to take his, but she stopped inches from him, as if she had thought better of making the contact. She withdrew her hand back into her own lap. What was that all about, Tom wondered?

"I was worried," she said.

Tom knew that she meant about them, not the monkeys, but he just couldn't have that conversation right now. "No reason to worry, Doctor. We got your monkeys."

He saw in her face that she knew exactly what he had just done, exactly how he had avoided discussing this…thing…that hung in the air between them. She nodded at him.

"Thank you."

"There were others out there. Infected people. They watched us from the beach, but we couldn't help them. I am so damn ready to be able to save these people."

"I know, Tom. Me too." His stomach flipped at her use of his first name. They were so professional most of the time, but every once and a while, that professionalism chipped. Was this them becoming friends? And if so, why did it feel so different than that?

* * *

Her words with the Captain after the Dengue Fever scare rung in her mind. _You might want to figure out a way how to trust me. Or I have a pretty strong feeling that this whole thing is going to fail._

Rachel was hurt at the Captain's lack of trust in her, and she knew that it was more than just the hit to her ego as a virologist. There was another part of her that also yearned for his approval, an unhealthy part. She knew that it was futile to fight her attraction to the Captain, that much she had learned, but she couldn't let that impact the mission.

Then, when Tex walked into her lab to tell her that he trusted her, it hurt. A part of her even wanted to take up with Tex just to show the Captain, but she quickly pushed her inner-teenager back into hiding. But as Tex walked out of her lab, she had to admit to herself that he was right, that it hurt her that the Captain didn't trust her after everything, and that his belief in her did mean something.

Rachel realized that until she got this fixed, she wasn't going to be able to keep working. She was too distracted. With a sigh, she stood up and left her lab, smoothing down her clothes and bringing her hand up to make sure that her ponytail was centered. Again, she shook her head at herself. What was she, fourteen?

The Captain wasn't on the bridge, and Slattery told her that he had just gone to his cabin. She found herself walking over there, although she didn't think that she would have the balls to knock. Her hands had different plans, though, and before she knew it, she was rapping at his door.

She heard movement in the cabin, and then the door swung open. Tom Chandler looked absolutely shocked to see her standing there, and she regretted this instantly. He didn't smile.

"Doctor. Come in." His words were clipped, but she followed him into the cabin. He was barefoot and his _Nathan James_ t-shirt was tight enough to show the muscles of his back and shoulders. She pushed the thoughts from her mind.

"I'm so sorry to bother you, Captain," she started, as he gestured for her to sit down on the couch in his antechamber. As she sat, she glanced at the book that he had clearly be reading, set upside down on the couch next to her. Ruskov's book, she noticed. In Russian.

Chandler leaned back against his metal desk. He was across the tiny room from her, as far as he could get. The room was so small that it was still only a couple of meters.

"What's on your mind?" Yes, he was not thrilled to see her. Now Rachel realized why he had fled that time he had come to her cabin. This was awkward. It had only been a few weeks before, but it felt like years.

"When we spoke a few hours ago, I told you that I'll always be straight with you. So I'm here to do that."

The Captain nodded, but said nothing. He watched her expectantly.

"Look, I know we've had our issues. I understand why you find it hard to trust me. And if I'm honest with you, I don't know what it's going to take to get this vaccine or how long it's going to take me." Their eyes locked, and her words hung heavy in the still air.

"But I can promise you this, Captain, I will not stop until we have this thing figured out. You know, when Quincy said that time that I didn't have _skin in the game_ , he was right. My family is dead, and the only person I really, truly cared about when this thing hit is almost certainly dead too. The only thing that I have left is this vaccine. I am _going to_ get this done, no matter how long it takes. As long as you keep this ship going, I can promise that every single day, I will get closer. I will fight and die for this vaccine. I will save those people out there. I don't know how and I don't know when, but I _will_ do it."

She had gotten a little worked up, and when she stopped, she was embarrassed. What would he think? Would he pity her? She couldn't believe she had just admitted all of that to him.

But when Rachel looked back up and locked eyes with the Captain, she didn't see what she expected. No derision, no pity, not even surprise. Instead, she saw trust. Their eyes locked just for a heartbeat, and then Chandler crossed the room in two strides and stood in front of her.

"Ok," he said. That was it?

"Ok?"

"Ok. I trust you. I've got your back."

Rachel felt awkward. That was it? She muttered a thanks. What else could she say?

But when she looked back at him, Chandler was smiling at her. He shifted around, taking seat next to her on the small couch. She could feel the heat from his body instantly, just centimeters from her. He went to set the book that had been on the couch on the table, and she stopped him.

"What were you reading?"

"It's Admiral Ruskov's book. Before all of this, he was one of the greatest naval masterminds of the cold war." He held the book out to her, showing her the photo of Ruskov on the back, surrounded by Cyrillic.

She took the book from him, glancing at the back jacket and then the front cover.

"You know Russian?"

"My dad was Army. He always made sure that we had a Russian-speaking nanny, and when I was a teenager in the eighties, he put me and my siblings in Russian immersion classes. It was the Cold War, and he wanted us to follow him into the military. I hated it at the time, but I have to admit, looking back, he was smart to do it." Rachel heard the nostalgia in his voice and the longing for his father.

"Sounds like his plan worked. Although I'm betting he expected you to use your Russian skills in the Army, not the Navy?"

Tom smiled next to her. "You would win that bet."

* * *

As the sun set, Rachel found herself standing next to the Captain on the forecastle, looking at the sea over the guardrails. It was a place that they both came to think. A place where they both felt comfortable. Although if Rachel admitted it to herself, lately she had been coming up there more often knowing that she might run in to Chandler. This time, though, she had just been standing there when he came up next to her.

"Thank you," she said, not looking at him.

"For what?"

"For listening to me last night. For choosing to believe in me. I know that lately, it hasn't been easy."

She could feel his eyes on her face, so she turned. The setting sun shone brightly off of his face, giving his cheeks and forehead a sepia tone, and the orange of the sun glistened from his blue eyes. Rachel almost blushed, but she didn't look away from his gaze.

"Well, you were right. We have to trust each other or we'll never succeed. And I know one thing, since this whole disaster started, you have been the most dedicated person on this ship. You earned my trust. I was just too caught up in my own problems to see it." His voice was calm, but still sincere. She could see why he was such a great leader.

"So really, thank you."

Rachel smiled and nodded, accepting the compliment. She wanted to thank him for thanking her, but all that would do would be to lead to some awkward thank-you loop that he would have to save her from. So instead, she turned back to look over the sea. She felt him do the same next to her.

"So would you really go get me a Bengal tiger?" she asked, breaking their silence. Chandler laughed at that, a real laugh that actually echoed across the forecastle.

"Just say the word."

* * *

Tom knew that he was grinning like a dumbass as he walked down the p-way, but he honestly didn't even care. His men were back with him and he was about to go shove it in Quincy Tophet's self-righteous traitor face. Mature? No, but Tom couldn't care less.

First, he popped into the lab. Now, Tom wouldn't consider himself a man who generally "popped" into anywhere, generally he liked to convey more gravitas, but with his current attitude, the description was probably accurate.

Doctor Scott was working inside of the plastic containment area in the lab, clad in that puffy white pressurized suit. Tom wasn't sure if she had noticed him, so he picked up the red phone attached to the outside of the plastic room to speak to her.

"Doctor?" he asked. She practically jumped out of her suit, and he could swear that he heard a muffled shriek of surprise. He knew she would never admit to that, though.

"Jesus, Captain!" she exclaimed. "You startled me!"

Tom chuckled and waited for her to turn around. When she did, he just stared at her, smile on his face.

"Well? Come on out here," he said. "I wanna chat."

Doctor Scott gave him a quizzical look, but she headed over to the exit. She stripped off her decontamination suit and unzipped the plastic shell of the lab containment, and then walked over to where he had sat down.

"So?" she asked.

Tom knew that he looked practically giddy, but he couldn't help it. He had to be a leader, be in control, be calm in front of his men, and he felt like she was one of the only people to whom he could really show how damn excited he was.

"The men are staying. Hell, they asked to reenlist!" he told her. Doctor Scott's reaction was instantaneous. A smile beamed across her face, and for a second Tom thought that she was about to hug him.

"That's great."

He nodded and leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "And you'll never believe who encouraged them in the first place. Who told them to do this."

Scott shrugged. "Who?"

"Quincy."

Now she really looked shocked. "What?"

"Yep," Tom confirmed. "He's apparently been stirring dissent for weeks now, planting ideas in the men's minds. He was telling them that I would let Quincy go with them and that he would be able to create the vaccine once they left."

Rachel looked absolutely shocked. Her eyes were staring at the wall behind him, and she raised her hand to rub at the back of her neck. "I don't even know what to say," she admitted.

Tom just grinned. "Cheer up," he told her. Rachel looked up at him, met his eyes. She definitely looked surprised at his attitude. "I'm about to go rub this shit in his face and take away his chess board."

Rachel gave him a strained smile at that, but it didn't reach her eyes. Uh oh, thought Tom. Something was wrong.

"Hey," he said, reaching out his hand to briefly touch her. "What is it? We won and he lost. Everything's ok. This is good."

"I know," she said, sighing. But her eyes looked sad when they met his. "It's just hard I guess. I spent ten years working closely with him. Honestly, he was my best friend for most of the last decade. I just…it makes me realize how little I knew him."

Her hand went to rub her eyes, but Tom could tell that she had more to say. Then she continued, "It just makes me question myself. I would have trusted him with my life, and then he went and did this? I mean, am I that disconnected from the people around me?"

Fuck, Tom thought. It hadn't even crossed his mind that she wouldn't find this satisfying, that instead, she would take it personally. And now he had gone and upset her, when all he wanted to do was cheer her up, let her know that the crew had listened.

"No, of course not. He did bad things, but they're not your fault. And you need to know that you were a big part of why those men stayed, why they even told me about Quincy. You're not disconnected from _them_."

She still wasn't smiling. Tom wished he could go back and smack his giddy self from five minutes ago. This was why he generally avoided getting all cheerful on people.

"I guess," she replied, completely unconvinced.

"Quincy is a piece of shit." Well that got her attention. She looked up at him, and there was maybe a touch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. "Pieces of shit have a way of making us feel bad about ourselves. But you can't give him that satisfaction. And I'll tell you this, you are not disconnected. Look at Tex, at Foster, at Cruz, at Green. Hell, look at me."

Now she was actually smiling, and she nodded at him. "Thanks."

"I mean it. Now smile. I'm about to go rub everything in that piece of shit's face."

* * *

I just want to thank everyone for all of your comments! They help keep me going and give me the motivation to write faster. So thanks to all of the commentators and everyone else who is reading. And if there are any scene requests, feel free to drop a comment. I'm always open to new ideas!


	7. SOS

This one's pretty short, but I just wanted to get SOS out and over with so we can get on to the kiss! So please forgive the brevity and the silly humor. Also, I'm not sure if I'm going to stay canon compliant through Season 2. So far, there hasn't been much Tom/Rachel to work with in 2, so I'm thinking I might go a little AU and advance the relationship a _little_ faster than our friends at TNT. Any thoughts?

* * *

Rachel was sitting in the wardroom picking at powdered eggs with her fork when the door slammed open and Tex barged in, immediately followed by a chuckling Slattery and a bemused-looking Captain. In a moment, the silent room was consumed by their chattering, and Rachel just shook her head. She swore, those men never stopped.

"Mornin' darlin'," Tex said, sliding past her chair just a little too closely.

"Good morning, gentleman," Rachel replied, her intonation the same as she would use to a class of kindergarteners. She didn't lift her eyes from the book that she was reading. She had learned how to deal with Tex and Slattery. The Captain was a different matter.

Tex sat down across her, sliding his own plate of eggs and coffee on the table. The Captain followed him, sitting on Rachel's left. He had gotten a bowl of oatmeal with his coffee. Did that man ever eat anything unhealthy?

"So what are your plans this morning? Defeat the virus? Save humanity? Finish those eggs?" Tex asked as he shoved a forkful of bacon and eggs into his mouth.

Rachel shook her head. "I swear, you Americans and your manners."

"Don't listen to him," Slattery said as he sat on her other side. "He's just jealous that I'm funnier than him."

"Oh really?" Rachel asked, as Tex shook his head furiously from across the table. Tex clearly wanted to object, but his mouth was stuffed with breakfast.

"No," Chandler said from her other side, but no one listened.

"So," Slattery said, anticipation in his voice. "What do you call a snail on the _Nathan James_?"

The Captain sighed next to her, and Tex just shook his head slowly like he was disappointed. Slattery was watching her eagerly.

"What?" Rachel asked.

"A _snailer_!" Slattery boomed, laughing.

Rachel turned and stared at him. That was one of the worst jokes she had ever heard. Chandler chuckled next to her.

"Well, there you go, now you know that Mike likes you. He's even sharing his Dad-jokes," said the Captain.

Rachel shifted her gaze between each of the men, shaking her head.

"I will never understand American humor," she deadpanned.

"Come on, wasn't it at least a little funny?" Slattery asked.

"NO!" the other three in the room exclaimed, turning to him in unison.

Rachel turned back to her eggs. They didn't look so bad now. Right before she picked her fork back up, she felt the Captain nudge her from the side. She glanced over at him.

Chandler shrugged. "Guess he warmed up to you," the Captain whispered so that Slattery couldn't hear. Tex heard and gave a laugh.

Well, that was a new development. And, Rachel thought, Chandler was right. It was probably worth hearing some shitty jokes.

* * *

Tom was clipping his breathing gear to his body armor and thinking about the Jamaican girl that they were headed to save when Rachel Scott walked up to him in the staging area, metal CDC case in hand. She set the case down next to him and went to grab a mask from the gear storage locker, but Tom shot out a hand to stop her, grabbing her wrist.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, voice incredulous.

"I'm gearing up," she replied to him, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Tom just shook his head at her, and didn't release her wrist in his hand.

"Oh no you're not." There was no fucking way that she was coming with them. Not only were they headed to an unknown ship absolutely riddled with the virus, but for all they knew, Ruskov had picked up the transmission. And if Ruskov heard the transmission, then he knew _exactly_ where they were going, to the second.

Rachel wrenched her wrist from his grip. For a second, Tom was tempted to hold on, not let her go, show her that he was in control here. But he ignored the base instinct and let her take her hand back. He wasn't that kind of man.

"And if we don't take a sample from the dead people on her ship, how am I supposed to know what exactly she is immune to? What if it's a different strain of the virus? What if it mutated?"

"I'll grab you a sample from the ship to test. You're not coming."

"It's one girl on a fishing boat, Captain."

Tom shook his head at her again. Jesus, had this woman been listening to him at all for the past months?

"I'm not worried about the girl, Doctor, I'm worried about the Russians. This could be a trap. And even if it isn't, they probably picked up our transmission, and could be waiting. You weren't there, you didn't see Ruskov in Cuba, but I did. He kills his own men on whims. I will not have you fall in to his grasp. It would pretty much be the worst thing that could happen to humanity right now."

He could see in her face that she understood what he was saying. He could see that she was close to giving in, but she just had to try one more time. Damn that woman was stubborn. Maybe even more stubborn than he was.

"I can handle it," she insisted.

"Yeah yeah yeah, I know, Mogadishu, Colombia, next you'll be telling me about your years in 'Nam and the time you defeated the French Foreign Legion. I don't doubt your grit, Doctor, but we just can't take those kinds of chances."

Her lips were pursed and her face was angry, but she nodded. Thank God.

"Ok, fine. But I need a sample from one of the dead on that ship, too."

"I'll add it to my list," Tom replied, watching her. Rachel leaned her hip against the table next to her and rested one hand on her hip. She brought her other hand up to point directly at Tom, pointer finger only inches from his chest.

"And be nice to her. You look scary in all of that gear."

Tom laughed, glad that she wasn't angry, but he couldn't help but play along. "Me? Scary?"

"Yes, you. If you came at me in all that gear with a rifle, I'd run and hide."

"Well don't you know how to make a man feel good right before a rescue mission," Tom said, giving her his best sad face.

Rachel poked him in the chest with her pointer finger before turning around. "Stop. And I'm serious. Be nice."

"Ok, ok, yes ma'am. Best behavior. I promise."

* * *

Tom was cold and wet and uncomfortable. His lifejacket chafed around his neck and under his arms, and the crotch strap wasn't exactly comfortable either. The water, which had felt bathwater hot when he first jumped in, now chilled him down to the bone. His face stung from the salt and the seawater, and the waves just didn't stop.

This ocean thing sucked, and it was even worse knowing that he had told the _Nathan James_ not to come after him. Despite what he told Tex, he knew that the reef was a long shot. Even if they could swim 20 miles before the sharks or the Russians found them, the currents would probably push them off track before they got there.

In the midst of all of those problems, and facing a fate that was probably either death or capture by his enemies, Tom couldn't stop thinking about what Tex had told him about the Doctor. Doctor Scott. Rachel.

It was dumb. He knew how dumb it was. He should have been thinking about currents, or keeping warm, or getting water, or _anything_ that would help him survive this mess. Hell, he should have been thinking about his family, his wife, his children. And instead, he couldn't get his mind off of the relationship issues between two civilians on his ship?

It's not like Tex's admission that he was "sweet" on the doctor was a surprise. Hell, Tom had been much more surprised by the revelation that he was from Reno. Anyone with half of a brain on the _Nathan James_ had seen Tex flirting with her. But there was something about the way Tex had told him that made Tom's stomach clench. Why? It's not like he had a claim on the doctor. Hell, he was a married man! He should be fine with Tex taking up with Rachel, fine with it if she decided that she liked the other civilian back. It was none of his business, right?

But when Tex had made the comment about Tom not making a move, anger had flared. Yeah, he laughed, he played it off, but now, drifting in the ocean, Tom just wasn't sure what it meant. What was wrong with him? Was he…jealous?

No. No, he was just tired and exhausted. Worried about the mission. Scared that he might never see his wife and children again. And, if Tex took up with Doctor Scott, she could get distracted. It could slow down the vaccine. It would be bad for the mission. That must be it, why he had reacted like that. He was just so tired, so worried, he must have mistaken the emotion.

But even as Tom told that to himself, he wondered. If he was just worried about the mission, why did it feel so much like being jealous?


	8. Two Sailors Walk into a Bar

Ok. This one was tough. I tried to do the kiss justice, but it's just SO LOADED that it was hard to do. I struggled with whether or not to have them talk about it, but I kind of felt like with everything that happened afterwards, that it just wouldn't have been Tom's priority. Also, I'm trying to stay canon compliant through season 1, and I just have a hard time imagining them talking about the kiss without affecting their subsequent relationship. So I think I'm going to save it for later. Thoughts?

* * *

It had actually been Foster's idea. As Rachel sat there, arguing with Slattery, trying to convince him to let her go rescue the Captain, it had been Foster that piped up in the long silence.

"Why don't we just take Ruskov out, now, if we know where he is? The Doctor's right, he's not just going to give up on us."

"How? The Captain and Tex are on board," Slattery had asked, but Green had understood her question. Rachel watched the SEAL's eyes light up.

"It has to be a covert operation. Get to the ship, rescue our guys, and blow it down to the bottom of the ocean. Cossetti has EOD training. We can sink the _Vyerni_ if we can just get him on board."

Foster nodded. Slattery looked tempted, but shook his head.

"The risk is too high. Ruskov will be expecting us to try something like that to avoid giving up Doctor Scott."

"Then send me," Rachel had said, inserting herself into the conversation. "You can just rescue me too." They were standing around a table and she looked straight into the XO's eyes. Slattery locked eyes with her for a moment before looking away.

"No," Slattery replied. "That's just _more_ risk. Too much risk."

"Look, you said it yourself, they'll be expecting something _until_ they get me. Once I'm on the ship, they'll let down their guard." Rachel crossed her arms across her chest.

Slattery was still shaking his head and was about to speak, but Green interjected before the XO could get in a word. "It's perfect. She can demand to see the Captain and pass him a note. He'll be ready for us. We'll be in and out in minutes."

Slattery's head stopped shaking. Well, Rachel thought, that was a good sign. Green had taken up her position, and Rachel knew better than to open her mouth.

"How the hell is she going to pass him a note? They'll all be captives." Another good sign. At least he was considering it.

Everyone paused, presumably stumped by the question. But Rachel had the answer.

"I'll kiss him."

"WHAT?" Slattery and Green both exclaimed, turning to her like she had just suggesting killing the Captain instead. But Foster smiled.

"That's perfect. Ruskov will assume that's why you came to the ship."

Rachel nodded. Thank god there was another woman here, because the men just looked absolutely flabbergasted.

"Exactly. I'll demand to see that they're alive before I do anything. I can pass him a note when I kiss him. Ruskov will think I love the Captain and that it's why I came. He'll let his guard down even further." Rachel's stomach flipped when she made the comment about being in love with the Captain, but she pushed the thought back down. Not the time.

Green seemed to be considering it. "It could work," the SEAL mused. He leaned forward against the table in front of them, resting his palms flat against the metal surface but looking up at the people across the table. Yes, Green was on her side now too.

Slattery's head was back to shaking. "No," the XO said firmly. "Tom is married!"

"I think Ms. Chandler will understand, just this once, to save her husband's life," Foster said, looking pointedly at the Captain.

"Why not Tex?" asked Slattery to Foster. He wasn't even focusing on Rachel in all of this. Just how she liked it.

Green answered. "Tex is head over heels in love with the Doctor. He'll think it's real and take the note for the Doctor's bubblegum. No, whoever she kisses is going to have to know what's going on in a split second. And that's the Captain."

Slattery's lips were pressed tightly together, and his face clearly broadcasted that he did not like the plan. But, looking at him, Rachel could tell that they had won. He didn't like it, but he didn't have anything better.

"Fine. I'll call Ruskov and tell him we're sending the Doctor. Foster, make sure that we set a course to the _Vyerni_. Green, I want you to make sure that the doctor takes a gun. Hide it somewhere they won't find when they search her."

They all nodded. Rachel's stomach had butterflies in it, excitement at getting to rescue Chandler mixed with nerves at the danger of it all. She knew, however, that this was the right thing to do. Now that they had the vaccine, Chandler was probably _more_ vital to the mission than even she was.

The group of four went to scatter, but Slattery stopped them. "Wait, one more thing. I want a blade with that note. The Captain will want a weapon."

"Yes sir," Rachel responded. This was about to get very interesting.

* * *

Standing next to Tex in front of some mystery door, all Tom could think about was how the hell was he going to get out of here? He was tired and sore and hungry, and the Russians were keeping a very close eye on him. His hands were cuffed, wrists chafing against the metal. Yeah, this looked bad, and he wasn't happy.

But when that door opened to reveal Rachel Scott on the other side, Tom went from unhappy to absolutely furious. He saw her for just a moment, standing in front of him, looking straight at him with those dark eyes.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked. This was outrageous. This was nuts. What the fuck was Mike thinking?

Tom barely even noticed that she had lunged at him until her lips met his, her hand coming up to his neck, her fingers in his hair, her body against his. For a second, Tom's mind just went blank, but then, then he felt something hard and plastic pressing against his lips. He opened his mouth, and her tongue shot into his like they were high schoolers. But with her tongue came that plastic something, and suddenly, Tom knew exactly what was going on.

She kept kissing him. He wanted to bring his hands up, to touch her waist or to run his fingers through her hair. He knew that was wrong, and he felt guilty for a second, but he couldn't help it. She was warm and feminine and pressed against him, and all he wanted to do was take her into his arms.

She didn't stop until the Russians yanked them apart. It must have been seconds, but it felt so much longer. Tom secured the package under his tongue and kept his eyes locked with Rachel's. It just felt wrong to think of her as Doctor Scott so soon after a kiss like that. She was looking straight at him, eyes locked, filled with emotion. Tom stared straight back at her, willing her to know that he understood, he knew what had just happened.

He was immediately escorted out of the room, Russian hands rough on his shoulders. He could feel Tex's gaze on him but he didn't have time for that right now. He needed to know what was in that message, and damn it, he needed to talk to Rachel Scott. But the second one would have to wait.

* * *

Rachel had done what she could for Cossetti on RIB, but it hadn't been enough. Her cold fingers had fumbled under his jacket, and she'd felt the warm blood pumping out against his skin even as she tried to stop it. After a few minutes, still bumping over the waves on the RIB in the dark, she had turned to the Captain just shook her head.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, the admission painful on her lips. The wind carried the words away, but he understood her meaning. The Captain winced. Rachel couldn't see his eyes in the dark, but she could imagine that they were sad. Chandler handed her bandages from the first aid kit next to him, and she bandaged Cossetti's side, did the best job that she could. It wouldn't be enough.

Cossetti died minutes later, his head cradled in Green's lap, the Captain next to his side. Rachel wished that she could have done more, but she had known that it was futile before she had even touched him.

When they got back to the ship, it was even worse. Rachel watched Green carry Cossetti out, and she followed right behind the Captain. She gave her best smile to Slattery, thankful that they had been able to save Chandler, but also knowing what they had sacrificed. When they got inside, Green took Cossetti into the aft bay, and most people followed.

Chandler, though, took Rachel by the wrist and directed her into another room. It looked like an unused bunk room that had been converted into a storage closet, boxes and canisters everywhere. Rachel had never been there before.

"Sit," Tom directed, pointing her to a singular office chair a few feet from them.

"Why? Rachel asked, but she sat as she had been directed. Tom didn't answer. He walked over to one of the canisters, a first aid canister with a big red cross, and he started going through it. Rachel just watched him. She didn't know why he had brought her here, but she wasn't going to fight it. As much as she hated to admit it, she liked the idea that he had taken her to be alone with him, liked the idea of spending time with him, even if this wasn't the time for those thoughts.

Tom pulled a packet out of the of the first aid canister and ripped it open with his teeth. Rachel watched him curiously. The Captain took a wet wipe from the packet and fastidiously cleaned his hands. He threw the wipe in a small trash bin by the door and then walked over to Rachel, the wipe packet still between his teeth.

"Hands," he muttered, crouching in front of her on his haunches. Rachel held out her hands to him. They were filthy and still had Cossetti's blood on them.

Tom took her hands carefully, pushing her sweater sleeves up to her elbows, and then he slowly started to clean her fingers with the wipes. He focused intently on his cleaning, starting with the left hand. He cradled it in his own hands, so much bigger than hers, cleaning each finger separately. Wherever he touched, Rachel's hands burned like they were on fire. She couldn't tell if it was from his touch or the antiseptic.

Rachel watched the top of his head as he switched his focus to her right hand. She had never expected this, and honestly, she didn't know what to think. The man in front of her was just full of surprises.

When he finished cleaning her hands, Chandler tossed the wipe into the bin a few feet away from them and grabbed a towel on the desk, handing it to her. She guessed it was for her to dry off her own hands. For a second, she felt sad that he wasn't going to do it.

Rachel wiped her hand with the towel as Chandler reached over behind him and grabbed a big canister, dragging it a few feet so that he could sit on it right in front of her. The canister was smaller than her chair and when the Captain sat down on it and looked at her, their eyes were level.

Rachel finished drying her hands, but she held on to the towel. She looked up and met the Captain's eyes. What were they doing in here?

"Ok," Chandler said, breaking the silence. "We need to talk."

"Ok, but don't get mad at Mike. He didn't want me to pass the note by kissing you but I insisted. It's not his fault." Rachel felt like a little kid trying to defend against a parent's accusations, but she didn't want Chandler to be mad at Slattery for something that the XO had opposed. And, a small part of her mind interjected…don't you want him to know that it was _your_ idea to kiss him? Just in case…?

"I'm not here to talk about the kiss," Chandler replied. He was sitting on a bright orange canister, knees awkwardly high, hands resting on them. He was still looking at her, and Rachel went to meet his eyes. They were icy.

"Oh."

"Yes. I'm here to talk about the fact that despite what I have been saying for this entire mission, despite my repeated efforts to keep you safe, you continuously disregard your own safety and the entire mission. This _cannot_ keep happening, Rachel."

Rachel shook her head, avoiding his eyes. She couldn't even bear to face the disappointment in them. "It was the only way, the only way to save you."

"I told you _not_ to save me. The mission can keep going without me, but it _cannot_ keep going without you. Why is this so hard for you to understand?"

Oh, if he only knew why that was so hard for her to understand. Rachel knew exactly why she was willing to put her life on the line for the Captain, and to be honest, it wasn't really all about the mission.

"That's not true anymore. The mission can keep going without me too."

Tom looked incredulous. "And how is that now? How can we keep going without the scientist that insisted a month ago that she was humanity's only hope?"

"Because I made a vaccine." Rachel let that hang in the air for a second. She watched the Captain's face go from anger to shock to something else, something softer. Rachel continued. "I taught Rios how to make it before I left. If I didn't make it, you could have kept going. You're more important than me now. We have a vaccine, we can produce it, and now we need to distribute it."

"You have a vaccine?"

"Well, a prototype. I still need to test it on people, but the monkey lived."

The Captain looked torn between two emotions, between his existing anger and his happiness about the vaccine news. For a second, Rachel thought that she was going to get off of the hook, when the Captain smiled for a heartbeat and mouthed "a vaccine?" But just as quickly, like he remembered why they were there, he turned back to her.

"Even if you do have this prototype, you tested it on one monkey. What if it was the Bertrise of monkeys? What if it was immune? What if you were wrong?" The icy anger was back in his eyes and he was leaning forward toward her, not letting her avoid his gaze.

Rachel didn't even know what to say. She had known that was a risk, of course she did, but it was worth it to save the Captain. Obviously, the Captain disagreed.

"Quincy could have…"

"No!" Tom cut her off, his voice booming, and Rachel actually flinched. He didn't react at all to her fright. "You don't get to put yourself at risk because we have Quincy. He sold us down the river, and he'd do it again. You _ARE NOT TO EVER DO ANYTHING LIKE THIS AGAIN_! Do you understand me?"

"Ok, ok," she said. "Yes, there were risks, I know, but they were calculated risks. I'm not an idiot."

Tom shook his head. "I'm not sure about that. You don't even know what you risked! Did you know that Ruskov was raping Kelly Tophet? Did you know that I watched him kill his own men? He could have killed you, or worse, the second that you stepped on to that ship, just to keep us from the cure. Did you think about that?"

Rachel had to admit that she hadn't. She started to shake her head, chastised, but the stubborn part of her wasn't willing to give in just so quickly. She knew that the Captain had wanted to be a martyr, but he couldn't actually ask that of them. So she looked back up at him, fire back in her eyes.

"I knew exactly what I was risking, and you're not going to make me feel like a child just because –"

Rachel was cut off when Chandler stood up abruptly, sending the metal canister on which he had been sitting careening across the room.

"I'm NOT listening to this. I'm tired of trying to protect you. Fine, kill yourself if you want, but I hope you think about the people on this ship and their families that are waiting on _your_ vaccine!" the Captain yelled, slamming the door behind him as he left.

Rachel was left sitting in the empty room, the towel that he had given her still in her hands. That had not gone the way she had expected.


	9. Trials

I'm back! Sorry for the gap guys! It was a crazy week, and 02x10 was just so depressing I had to grieve a little. But I watched Valkyrie last night (like I said, crazy week) and it got me back in the groove. So hope that this cheers some of you up a little after the rough couple of weeks for our ship.

* * *

By all rights, things should have been awkward after Tom's outburst in the storage bunk. He had been out of control, had lost his cool. He knew it and he admitted it. He didn't have an excuse for why he had gone so crazy on her. He knew that she was an adult and she could make her own decisions, even if he disagreed with them. And as much as he disagreed with her rescue operation, a part of him was damn thankful that she had saved his life and let them take out Ruskov.

So yes, it should have been awkward. But, somehow, it wasn't. Just like after Tom's outburst in her cabin, he stewed in shame and waited for the awkward discussion. It never came. He had run into her the next morning in the wardroom and had touched her arm, started to apologize with a "hey, look, I'm sorry," but the doctor had cut him off. She cheerfully whispered to him that it was ok, she understood, and that he had a point. Then, everything had gone back to normal.

Rachel Scott continued to surprise him. As stubborn and recalcitrant as she was about everything else, she was the opposite when it came to diffusing Tom's embarrassment. She had done it after the night he burst into her cabin, unannounced, and now she had done it again with his outburst in the storage bunk. Tom Chandler did not make a habit of losing his cool in front of anyone, but it seemed that if he had to lose control, she at least would never hold it against him, never make it awkward.

So Tom wasn't surprised when Rachel tracked him down as he left the CIC a few hours after their completely and totally not-awkward interaction in the wardroom. She looked eager about something, and her eyes were shining. Tom noticed, not for the first time, how small she looked in an oversized sweater.

"Captain," she said, getting his attention in the crowded p-way. Tom turned to find her right behind him. "Got a moment?"

"Sure," he replied, ducking into a quieter hallway. The doctor followed him. She didn't have to duck.

"So, like I told you before, we're going to need to do human trials on the prototype." She was leaning back against the wall as she spoke, looking at him.

"Yeah, you mentioned that," Tom replied dryly. He was definitely having more trouble letting go of their little spat than she was.

"It's going to have to be a limited test. I want to come up with demographic parameters and then do a representative trial. Depending on our resources and air filtration capacity, I'm thinking four to ten people."

It hit Tom like a ton of bricks that she was asking his permission to test on the crew. He felt like an idiot; of course she would want to use his crew to test her vaccine. Who else did they have?

"Are you asking for my permission to do these tests on my people?" Tom asked, looking for confirmation, hoping that he was misunderstanding. Even as he asked the question, he knew what her answer would be. It's not like they had other options.

She looked at him curiously, like the answer was obvious. "Yes. I thought that was clear."

"Are there really no other options?"

She shook her head. "Not really. Anything else would involve much more risk, much more time lost, and would probably also mean conscripting unwilling civilians to do tests against their will. Which, I'm sure you could guess, is completely unethical and _not_ something that I'm willing—"

Tom cut her off with a wave of his hand. "Of course, no, we will not be doing that."

The Doctor nodded, relief on her face. She had to have known that he wasn't the kind of man who would have kidnapped people to test on them? I mean, hell, that was what they had fought against in Nicaragua.

"So," Tom continued, "what do you need from me?"

"Nothing, I just wanted to clear everything with you before I started setting it up."

Tom nodded. He did appreciate that. And he would have been pissed if she hadn't asked him.

"Ok. Well you have it. This is going to be volunteer only. Figure out how many people you need and the basic criteria and get with Jeter and Slattery to set it up."

The Doctor nodded at him and went to duck back out of the small hall, but she turned right before she reached the doorway.

"Thanks, Captain. You won't regret it," she said, smiling shyly, before turning back around and leaving. He couldn't help but smiling at her back as she left. She had a way of putting him at ease.

* * *

Rachel was fucking nervous, and she knew that it showed. She had never been a person to show weakness, but she just couldn't do it all of the time. So she did what she could, hid as much as possible, and just dealt with the consequences.

She was sitting with the Captain in his cabin. Well, she was sitting. He was pacing.

He had asked her to come and tell him as soon as she knew the final crew that would be tested, so here she was. It had been past 2300 when she knocked on the door, but he had answered immediately, wide awake in _Nathan James_ sweats.

"So, what's the final word?" he asked.

"Jeter, Tex, Foster, Garnett, Miller, and Gibson."

Rachel watched his face as she told him. He was nervous too, she could tell, and she saw in his expression that he didn't like her selections. To be honest, though, Rachel didn't think that he would have liked any selection at all that involved his people.

The Captain nodded at her, but he didn't seem to have any words. Rachel realized that in some ways, this was even worse for him than for her. He had no control over what was going to happen to his people. He'd given their safety, hell, their lives, over to her. She had to admit, he had kept good on his earlier promise to trust her. Rachel just hoped that she would be able to live up to that trust.

"I know that you're going out on a limb for me here. I know that you don't like any of this. I don't either. But thank you."

Tom's eyes met hers as she spoke. His look was serious, but not grim. He gave her a single nod as he spoke. "You've earned it. I know we've had our differences about some things, but you've proven yourself. I might not like testing on my guys, but if we're going to have to test on them, I'm damn glad that it's you doing it."

Rachel smiled at him. "Thanks Captain."

Silence hung in the air for a moment. Rachel guessed that there wasn't much more to say. This was happening, the people were selected, and it was either going to be really good or really bad. They would find out tomorrow. Rachel was the first to break the silence.

"When I first came to the U.S. to do my doctorate at Yale, I took a week over Christmas break to see the East Coast. I wanted to see D.C., New York, Boston, Philadelphia, all of the big American sites. My first stop was D.C., and on the first day I saw your White House, your Capital, the government buildings. The second day I went to the Smithsonian. I spent the next week there. I never made it to New York."

"Anyway, one of the reasons I couldn't bring myself to leave the Smithsonian was a special exhibit on Jonas Salk and the polio vaccine. For a budding virologist, it was amazing. I knew so much about the history of the polio vaccine and Salk, but the exhibit really gave me new insight into the man and his life. One thing that stuck with me was a journal entry of his."

"See, Salk had actually tested the vaccine on himself before anyone else. He injected himself with his vaccine, then with the virus, and he survived. Then he tested it on his wife and his children, and they survived. I hope that one day, people will remember our six people that we're testing the same way that we remember Jonas Salk. I hope that they can be remembered as heroes, and that one day, there is a Smithsonian exhibit about them."

Rachel kept her eyes on the Captain. That had been sappy, but deservedly so, she thought. He had watched her seriously while she was talking, but his expression didn't give any idea of what he was thinking, what he thought of her.

"I hope so too," he said. There was silence again. Rachel fidgeted with her hands in her lap, picking at her fingernails. She felt awkward and nervous and exposed. Like always, the Captain seemed to sense her weakness and offer up his own.

"I actually saw that exhibit on Salk too, you know. Ashley was a baby, maybe a year old. I had just come back from a deployment, and Darien – my wife – she was so frazzled. She'd just spent six months taking care of a baby all by herself. So I sent her for a spa weekend and took the baby up to D.C. I had no idea what I was doing. I hadn't ever been overnight alone with her, much less out of town for four days."

Rachel watched Tom as he spoke, and his eyes practically gleamed with his memories, with his love for his family. It broke her heart to see how much he missed them; how much he had given up for her. But she just listened as he continued.

"I spent the first two days holed up in the hotel, no idea what I was doing, trying to get Ashley to sleep. On the third day, I took her out to the mall to play, and she loved it. By the last day, I was brave, and we went to the Smithsonian. It was amazing. Something about the exhibits and the people calmed Ashley down so much, and we had a blast. I remember taking her stroller through the Salk exhibit, just being so happy that she wouldn't have to deal with polio."

Tom's nostalgic smile vanished as he reached the end, and Rachel saw his eyes go from remembering the good times to thinking about the present.

"I thought she was safe from all of that. I was so wrong."

Rachel shook her head at him. "She will be. They will be. After these tests, we'll get them the vaccine, and they'll be safe again."

Chandler locked eyes with her, icy blue to brown. Rachel felt like he was looking straight into her soul, and also like he was three thousand miles away. "You do that, you save them, and I will never be able to repay you."

Rachel had no idea how to respond, so she just said the first thing that came to mind. "I'm not doing it alone. We're going to save them together. All of us."

* * *

It had been five hours in the lab, watching his guys through plastic, and everyone was still ok. Tom had told Slattery that it felt like watching Sam in the NICU, but honestly, this was worse. At least when Sam had been born, there had been legions of doctors and nurses around, constantly telling him that everything was ok, that Sam would be fine. They had statistics and percentages and even though it had been hard to see his baby so small and hooked up to machines, in the back of his mind, he had known that everything would be ok.

This was so different. The opposite, really. Now, he was watching a bunch of people who were ok, but he had no idea what was really going to happen. He watched them chatter inside of the containment plastic, but he didn't have anything to reassure him this time. All he had was hope, and his trust in Doctor Scott.

 _Speak of the devil_ , Tom thought as he saw Rachel approaching his location. He had stepped out on the aft deck outside of the helo-bay-turned-lab for a breath of fresh air, and it seemed that she had the same idea.

"Any idea how it's going?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Not really. Foster and Miller are running fevers now, but that's common with vaccines."

Tom nodded. He remembered. "My daughter ran a fever for two days when she got her first shots. Didn't let us sleep all weekend."

"Exactly."

The Doctor had walked up to where he stood, only a few feet from the wire guardrails that separated them from the sea. Her back was to the bow, and the movement of the ship made her ponytail flutter. Tom just watched her. He could tell that she was as stressed as he was.

"When will we know?" he asked.

"Within 24 hours? Maybe sooner. Maybe not. Honestly, I'm not completely sure."

Tom shrugged. "Guess we'll just wait."

"Well I hope it soon," Rachel said with a smile. "Because I swear, if I have to hear Tex try to do another James Bond impression, I might kill him myself. Americans _cannot_ do British accents!"

Oh, that woman didn't know who she was dealing with.

"Hey, don't judge all of us on Tex. I'll have you know that I was renowned at the Naval Academy for my Bond impressions. Second place in the plebe talent show."

The doctor cocked an eyebrow at him, and Tom could read the skepticism in her eyes. "Really?"

"Yes. Do you find that so hard to believe?"

"Kind of."

Tom cleared his throat, and looking the Doctor right in the eye, gave her his best impression. "Well, my dear girl, I'll do anything for a woman with a knife…or perhaps, in your case, a monkey."

Oh, Tom was rusty, but he knew that he'd passed Doctor Scott's test by the chuckle that escaped her pursed lips. Her chuckle turned into a full blown laugh. Tom was glad to see the laughter reach her eyes. He leaned, pleased with himself, against the half-wall behind him, folding his arms over his chest.

"Well, Captain, you've surprised me again. Not bad at all."

"So I'm better than Tex?" he asked, smile on his face. He played it off, but a part of Tom knew that he wanted her to admit it.

Rachel leaned back against the guardrails and nodded. "Oh, without a doubt, Mr. Bond."

* * *

"Fuck," Rachel muttered to herself. Then again, louder. "Fuck!" Before she knew what she was doing, Rachel found herself throwing stuff across the storage room. "FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!"

Gibson was dead. The look in Chandler's eyes, Slattery's eyes, Miller's eyes when they had zipped up the body bag…she couldn't take it. Rachel had thrown up everything in her stomach, and the dry heaves were still coming. She had killed Gibson, and she was going to kill the rest. It was all her fault. Fuck!

Now, they were dying in that containment zone. People had been invited to say their goodbyes. Danny Green was sitting in there with Foster. Foster. The baby. Another death, her fault. She just knew that Chandler and Slattery were watching it, watching it happen and knowing that Rachel had killed their guys. Ruskov had only killed three of their people. She was twice as bad!

Rachel couldn't face them. She couldn't face the Captain. She just couldn't. She should never have done this. Why had she thought that SHE could create a vaccine? That SHE could save the world?

Rachel slid down to the ground, head between her knees, trying not to vomit again. Even behind her closed eyelids, she saw Tom Chandler's face, saw the disappointment in his eyes. Well, fuck.

* * *

"We have it. We have a vaccine," Tom said, barely believing it. He had gone through so many emotions in the past few days, from nervousness to skepticism to anger and despair. But now, now he could feel the hope and the elation bubbling up inside of him. He just had to hear her confirm it.

"We don't just have a vaccine," the Doctor said, her eyes looking straight into his. "We have the cure."

"You mean…?" Tom let his words trail off. He hadn't even thought of that.

She took a step towards him, her eyes on his, only an arms-length away. "I mean that we can save people who are already sick."

Oh, fuck. Tom didn't even know what to say. After everything that they had been through, she had actually done it. He had believed in her, sure, and he had told everyone else to, too. But so many times, he had thought doubted, hadn't believed that she could do it. Hell, an hour before he had been furious at himself for believing in her. But now…?

He didn't have words. He could tell that she didn't either. She had tears in her eyes, and he knew that he did too. So instead of talking, he just took her into his arms.

His first thought was that damn, she smelled good. He wrapped his arms around her, telling himself that this was purely out of excitement, purely celebration, completely platonic, but a part of him knew he was probably enjoying it a little too much. She hugged him back, her arms thin, her hands resting against the muscles of his back and shoulders.

Tom thought that this was one of the happiest moments of his life. They had done it. He buried his face in her neck, smelling her, feeling her. A tear escaped his eyes. She would feel it, but for once, Tom wasn't even worried about looking weak. No, she could know. He smiled against her skin.

Eventually, they pulled apart. Tom thought that she almost seemed reluctant, but she did it, grazing her hands against his upper arms as they extricated themselves from each other. Tom felt cold and lonely as soon as they parted, but he put on a smile.

"You're a damn genius, you know that?" he said.

She grinned back at him. "I still can't believe it."

"Well, believe it. You did it."

Rachel took a deep breath before exhaling it, shaking her head at him. "No, I didn't do it. We did it."

Tom laughed and shook his head back. "No. You did it. The rest of us just kept you alive long enough for you to do it."

She nodded, leaning back against the rolling storage container behind her.

Tom felt giddy, like a little kid. "Well, I'm damn excited. I could almost hug you again," Tom said, slightly regretting the admission as soon as he said it. Oh well.

"So," he continued. "What now?"

"Home. Let's go home."

* * *

Ok, hope that wasn't too disappointing! Next is the finale, which I will probably keep canon compliant. I'm not sure if I'm going to wrap this fic up at the end of season 1, or if I should keep going through season 2. If I did season 2, it would definitely NOT stay canon compliant. It's hard enough to WATCH the last few episodes, much less write them. So any ideas? Anyone interested in slightly more shippy season 2 than the writers are giving us?


	10. No Place Like Home

Tom was standing up on the quarterdeck as land came into view. He had asked Mike to make an announcement to the crew, and they were gathered below him on the forecastle, looking out to the sea. Tom watched them gaze over the vast expanse of ocean, towards the vague shadow of America. Home.

He heard someone coming up behind him, but he didn't turn. He knew that it was Rachel Scott from the soft sound of her boots. Her footwear couldn't have sounded less regulation if she had tried. He would have known that sound anywhere.

She walked up to him, leaving only a few inches between their arms. Tom glanced over at her. She had rested her elbows on the rail and glanced out to the sea, taking in the vague shadow of land in front of them and the crew below them. Then she looked back at him. Tom averted his eyes and stayed silent.

"So, that's it?" she asked.

Tom cocked his head and broke his eyes from the horizon, looking back at her. "Well, it's Florida. It's not exactly known for its topography."

"I just meant that I can barely see it. Slattery's announcement made it sound like we were sailing up to your Mount Rushmore." God, Tom wondered, could she sound more British? He knew that she was playing with him. As much as she liked to tease their "American ways," she loved the country too.

Tom snorted. "My Mount Rushmore? I believe that you were the one waxing poetic about how much you loved America last time we talked about it."

She chuckled and looked over at him, eyes meeting his for a moment. Tom was cheered to see the laugh, the happiness in her eyes. It had been too long, but finally, everything was going to be ok.

"Fine, but don't tell anyone else. We British must keep up appearances."

"Ah, yes," Tom replied conspiratorially with a smile. "And anyway, Mount Rushmore is in North Dakota. Not exactly on the water."

"South Dakota, actually," she corrected.

"No way. I helped Sam do a map with all of the states and...wait, never mind…" Tom paused. Shit. She was right. North Dakota had been some fort or something.

She laughed out loud that time, and Tom shook his head at himself, looking back over the water. The shadow of the land looked a little bit closer.

"Fine, I was wrong. But don't tell anyone. We Americans have to keep up appearances too."

"You got it, Captain," she said with a smile in her voice, leaning over to bump her arm against his in a sign of solidarity. Tom saw the grin on her face as he turned out to look out again. The whole crew was below them, chattering excitedly, immunized, looking towards home. He felt Rachel standing next to him, sensing the smile on her face. And for the first time in a while, he really felt like everything was going to be ok.

* * *

As Rachel immunized Chandler in his cabin, she couldn't help the intrusive thoughts swarming through her mind. I mean, hell, she was just giving the man a damned shot, but it felt positively intimate. The way he had looked in her eyes, the way he had just told her that she had "done it," the way he used her first name? He never called her Rachel.

Combined with that damn hug a few days before, she didn't even know what to think. Whatever was going on with him, it sure wasn't helping to settle the butterflies in her stomach whenever he looked at her. Yes, her damn crush was as strong as ever.

Rachel suppressed her urge to act like a schoolgirl as she grabbed a cotton ball and slowly withdrew the needle from his arm. His expression never budged. Well of course not, she told herself, the man was a goddamn rock. What did she expect? That he was going to be afraid of needles?

"Any pain?" she asked as she carefully set the needle down on the table next to them. He shook his head.

"I'm good," he told her. She turned away to get a bandaid for his arm. His eyes had been watching her since she had walked into her cabin. It felt intimate, yes, but also made her self-conscious.

"That's good," she replied. Geez, wasn't she just Captain Obvious over here.

He smiled. She could sense it even though her face was turned to her kit.

"I don't need a bandaid."

Always the hero. "Doesn't matter," she said, removing the cotton from his arm. Just a dot of red. Good. "You don't get a choice. Since this is a new shot we can't be guaranteed that there won't be complications. The bandaid is mandatory, Captain Toughguy."

"Fine," he conceded. They fell back into their comfortable (was it?) silence as she opened up the bandaid and put it on him. He was just sitting there, watching her face. It would have been awkward with anyone else, but with him, it wasn't.

"Thanks," he said as she finished. Rachel went to put everything away, dropping the needle and other contaminated items in biohazard bags.

She smiled as she packed up and turned to leave. "Anytime."

Before she could go, Tom's arm sprang out. She wouldn't say that he grabbed her, but it wasn't just a touch either. His hand was gentle on her arm, and she turned.

"Rachel…" he started. He drifted off for a moment then continued, "I meant what I said. Don't jump right into stressing about everything. Give yourself a break."

She smiled at him. "I will. And you should too."

He nodded and smiled. Their eyes met. Yes, this _definitely_ felt a little too intimate. As if he had just thought the same thing, he withdrew his arm and turned away. Rachel scrambled out of the door. Her heart was positively pounding into her ribcage. That had been…different.

* * *

Tom couldn't believe what he had just heard and seen. The government in Baltimore! Granderson's mother! And they were only hours away. As they charged out of the door, Tom was barking orders. He sent (Alicia) Granderson to the bridge, telling her to make sure that their ground teams were prepared. He sped off in the other directed. He HAD to tell the doctor.

Tom did everything but run to the lab. When he got there, he slammed open the door, practically yelling. "DOCTOR SCOTT!"

He almost laughed when he saw Rachel practically jump, but he held back. She was sitting at her desk, feet tucked under her body. She swiveled her chair around and her eyebrow went up when she saw his state of excitement.

"Is there a fire?"

"I just got off the line with Granderson's mother. She's apparently the head of the government now. They're in Baltimore. They have a lab!"

"What?"

"Yes, the government's in Baltimore. She knew about our mission. And they have a lab!"

Tom watched the smile spread across her face, and he wanted to pick her up and swing her around. He didn't. Instead, he just took a step forward, standing a few feet in front of her.

"How far are we?" she asked. He saw her calculating in her mind. He could tell the wheels were already spinning, her figuring out what they would need and what to bring.

"Two, maybe two and a half hours."

"Shit. I need to get my stuff. We're going to need samples, enough for the government on the ground, and the primordial so I can make more, and the Egyptian strain too…" she went on, turning away, starting to gather together her things.

Tom sighed and smiled. This was really happening.

Rachel stopped suddenly, turning to him. "Wait," she said. "You're not leaving me here, right?"

Tom shook his head and laughed. "No way in hell. Get all of your stuff together. Be on aft deck in an hour and a half. We're going to Baltimore."

"Finally!" she exclaimed, turning back to get her things together. Tom smiled as he left the lab. They were going to Baltimore. They would mass produce the vaccine only a couple hours from his Dad's cabin. This was going to work.

* * *

Tom was thinking about his talk with Tex as he walked back to the lab. He had gone to the lab earlier to ask Rachel a question about mass producing the vaccine, but he had stopped for a moment to talk to Tex, and Tex had mentioned his "thing" for Rachel. The conversation swirled in his mind. When Tex told him that Rachel wasn't "buying what he was selling," Tom had felt a satisfied twinge deep in the pit of his stomach.

Of course, it was just that he didn't want their mission complicated by a relationship between the two. Still, Tom had been glad for a second that Tex's attempts at the doctor had failed.

Yes, it was definitely complicated, and all of Tex's messing around had been so distracting that Tom had forgotten to ask Rachel his question. So now he found himself trudging back to the lab. But as he got close, he heard the subjects of his thoughts talking. Why were Tex and Rachel talking outside of the lab?

As he turned the corner, all Tom saw was the two of them, locked in an embrace, kissing each other deeply and thoroughly. What the hell? This was NOT what Tex had led him to believe was going on.

Before they saw him, Tom turned on his heel and ran. He was not getting involved in that shit. He refused. Their business was their business and that was that. Tom clenched his jaw and tromped away, lips pressing painfully together. If they wanted to be idiots and risk this mission, that was their own business. They were adults. He didn't even care.

But Tom knew that he was lying to himself. He felt a mix of anger at what he had just witnessed and abject guilt over his reaction. It was time for him to go to the radio room and find his family. He needed to get over whatever it was that his problem was, and as much as he didn't want to admit it, finding his family would set him straight again. Yes, that's what he needed, Tom thought, as he changed direction. That would put an end to this silliness.

* * *

Rachel felt amazing in the fresh, new, starched lab coat that they had given her in the lab. She felt practically giddy at being back in a real lab, with real full-sized machines and other scientists. She had spent hours just talking to them, comparing notes. There was something nice about not having to simplify things like she had to do for the non-scientists. Yes, she was glad to be there.

The lab had supplied her with a sample taken that morning in Baltimore, and she was about to examine it under the microscope. She wondered what she would find. Would it have mutated? Would it be the same strain that they had a cure for? She hoped so.

Part of her wondered about Tex's kiss as she bent down over the microscope. Honestly, the main thing that bothered her about it was…how little it bothered her. She hadn't felt anything when he had kissed her except for some awkwardness and a vague sadness that when he left, she would be losing a friend. In the back of her mind, she compared it to her (fake) kiss with Chandler. The emotions were like night and day. Yes, she still had it bad for the Captain, and no kiss from Tex would change that. Like always, despite many offers, love had just never been her thing. She was the queen of wanting what she could never have.

It was in the midst of those thoughts that Rachel heard a huge bang and then, absolute commotion. She realized how much she had changed since she stepped foot on the _Nathan James_ by her completely calm reaction as she stood. But that calm went out the door when she looked over at the noise and saw the object of her thoughts, Tom Chandler, in an absolute panic.

Chandler's face was red and he looked absolutely crazed. Rachel had never seen him like that before. He hadn't seen her yet but he was looking around, and then he called out for her.

"Doctor Scott! Rachel!" he bellowed through the lab. Rachel started over to him, practically running.

"Captain! What is it? What's wrong?" she asked.

"Oh thank God. I need four doses of the cure! My family, on the radio. They're here in Baltimore, but they're sick!" he said, panting, panicking.

Rachel nodded. Oh god, his family! "Come on," she said, heading back to her kit and gesturing him to follow. "I have plenty, and I think I actually have four ready. A team was heading out soon."

She got to her table and starting rummaging through her kit. Tom stopped next to her. She could hear him breathing. If she didn't know better, she would have thought that he was holding back sobs.

"Here," she exclaimed, pulling the bag out. She unzipped it and confirmed that there were four prepared doses. "You said four, right?" she asked.

"Yes," Tom said. His blue eyes were red but determined.

"OK. Take this. There's no trick to it, just jab it in their arms and push. Watch for air. You know how?"

Tom nodded, watching her hands as she zipped the bag back up and handed it to him. His eyes met hers for just an instant.

"Thank you," he said, then turned and started running out of the lab.

"Good luck!" Rachel yelled after him. She hoped that he found his family. She hoped that they were ok. She hoped that he could save them. She closed her eyes for a second after he disappeared down the hallway, silently wishing him luck.

* * *

Tom Chandler felt like every single negative emotion was at absolute war inside of his body. Anger. Pain. Grief. More anger. Sadness. Guilt. Aggression. Depression. More anger. Darien was dead. Granderson had killed her. Granderson was still killing.

With Sam in his arms, and his dad and Ashley in front of him, Tom pushed them away from Olympia, doing everything that he could to contain those emotions. The anger and grief felt like they would consume him, but the sick boy in his arms reminded him that he had to stay in control. He couldn't let go.

So they ran. Trying not to think about his dead wife, his thoughts wandered over to the people he had left at Granderson's compound. He had trusted her blindly, left his people with her. Alicia Granderson. Tex. Rachel.

Tom realized with a jolt of fear that she had Rachel. What if Granderson didn't want a cure? She was killing the sick people. What if she wanted them to die? What if she stopped Rachel from spreading it? What, Tom wondered with a pit in his stomach, if Granderson killed her?

Tom didn't think that he could take it. If Rachel died, the mission probably died. Could Quincy reproduce the cure? Could anyone? Or would it die with her, leaving him not only without a wife, but a failure? No, Tom told himself, he would not let that happen. He cursed himself again for leaving them behind without more investigation.

Tom squeezed Sam tighter in his arms. He would have time to grieve later. Now, he had what was left of his family, and he was going to do what it took to save the mission. He wasn't going to give that bitch Amy Granderson the satisfaction of taking anything else away from him after what she had done tonight to Darien.

Tom kissed the top of Sam's head, feeling the hair tickle his nose and smelling the boy's familiar smell. The kids were safe. This was about revenge now.

* * *

Ok, there it is! The end of Season 1! I got so much great feedback that I'm planning on moving on to a much less canon and much more shippy season 2, although I might wait for the finale of season 2 first. But anyway, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed throughout the story, and there will be more!


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